


Good Morning Mr Magpie

by Inareskai



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Everything important is canon compliant, F/M, Gen, Georgelina - Freeform, Magical Timeline Maths, Mostly Canon Compliant, Next Gen stuff, Other characters as we go - Freeform, Post-War, dealing with grief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23551699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inareskai/pseuds/Inareskai
Summary: The world stopped the moment he saw his twins’ body, limp and lifeless, on the floor. But somehow life continued around him. Follow George Weasley as he grieves and slowly learns that just because the world stops doesn’t mean life has to.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Audrey Weasley/Percy Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 24
Kudos: 37





	1. Red Desert

George had expected to feel something. An overwhelming sadness, presumably. Instead he felt nothing. The tears dripped down his cheeks but he was disconnected from them.  


He stared down at Fred’s pale face, his pale face. But the information did not properly filter into his mind. He was tired, oh so tired, the fighting was over and his feelings had stopped working as soon as he’d seen the body.  


If he could describe the feeling at all he might have said ‘lost’. Did he want to sleep, or did he never want to sleep again? Did he want to eat, or did he never want to eat again? Did he want to be with his family, or would their presence simply remind him that it was no longer complete? He wasn’t sure and he didn’t think he’d ever be sure again.  


Instead he stared out at the sea of red hair crowded around him. _Now what?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Good morning Mr Magpie' is said when you see a lone Magpie as a British superstition, it wards off bad luck. The rhyme about Magpies goes 'One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told.' Since seeing one magpie means sorrow, it is tradition to greet the bird as a way of warding off that bad luck. Different regions say different things, for example some say 'Morning Mr Magpie, how's your wife and kids?' while others say 'Good morning Captain Magpie'. 
> 
> There is good reason to think that the Weasley twins' patronuses were Magpies, adding an extra level to the 'one for sorrow' aspect! 
> 
> Well, off we go...


	2. 2.	The Runner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the few weeks after the battle, George feels remarkably ok. Sometimes he feels like it's not even really happening.

The funerals kept coming, day after day. Wizarding funerals always had a quick turn around time, it was tradition, but George felt perhaps the people who created that tradition hadn’t considered what happened when fifty people died at the same time. 

George attended all of them. He had cried. The tears felt real, but he had forced them out, the numbness still surrounded him more than any other feeling. Vaguely he was aware that at some point all those feelings would come crashing back, but he had no idea when or even what it would be like when it happened, so for now he carried on. 

This afternoon was Roger Davies’. He hadn’t really known Davies that well, beyond their quidditch matches and the occasional shared class. But George wasn’t going to forget any of the people who’d given everything to make everyone’s future better.

‘How are you holding up?’ Katie Bell asked afterwards, looking at him with pity.

‘I am holding up, can’t say much more than that.’ 

‘Owl me, or patronus me, if you ever need to. I’m sure the same is true for Alicia and Angelina. Seriously, anything you need.’

‘Thanks Katie, I’ll bear that in mind.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Why? You didn’t do it.’

Katie stared blinked at him. ‘Yeah... yeah, anyway, owl any time.’

People offered him a listening ear more than anything else. Some people were bringing food for them, his parents kept opening the door to a homemade stew or freshly baked loaves. His mum hadn’t even looked at the kitchen yet, the kindness of others was one of the few things keeping them fed. But George found himself doing many things much the same.

After Roger’s funeral he’d gone home and looked around their, his, bedroom. More of a bonus storage room for the last few years as they’d moved above the shop in Diagon Alley. But there were still things they’d left behind. Fred’s life permeated this room; hand scribbled notes, odd socks in the colours George knew Fred preferred, two beds. George found he could easily imagine that Fred was just downstairs, if he sat still he could wait for Fred to come up and find him, berating him for taking so long to get a simple box of inventory. 

He’d also been receiving lots of owls, they all had. Every Weasley, as well as Hermione and of course Harry (who received more than all of them put together) had hundreds of notes from the wider community, full of thank yous for their war efforts and condolences for what it cost them. 

George slept a lot, generally not in their, his, bedroom. But on the sofa in the living room, in the orchard over the hot nights. Ginny would often stop by to sit with him, they didn’t often speak, she’d just sit and hold his hand and stare into the dark night together. 

‘Every time we get a letter, I expect it’s going to be from him.’ He’d muttered, on one of those long nights as they lay in the orchard.

‘I know, I feel the same. I keep expecting a letter from Anthony too, his parents wrote to all of us thanking us for being his friend and making school somewhere he loved. But I just want a letter from him. From all of them really.’

‘I wonder if I’ll ever not expect a letter or a floo from him.’

‘Probably. But I don’t know if I want that, I want to feel like Fred’s always here with us.’

‘Your Love-Who-Lived would say they’re always with us whether we expect their letters or not.’

‘Yeah he would.’

They continued to look up at the stars. 

‘I’m not sure I believe him.’ George added after a while. 

‘I don’t yet, but I hope one day I will.’

*** 

The summer months went by much the same. 

George continued with life, not fully connected to it but not completely off the rails either. It was hard, but he often felt that Fred would be back soon. Some days all he wanted to do was sleep and some days he shut the joke shop early, but for the most part he continued. 

Everyone kept telling him how brave he was. How he was handling it all so well. He just couldn’t imagine another way to do it, they had known they might die and they had promised to keep going. If he was like this forever, well, so be it. He would fulfil Fred’s request just as he knew Fred would have fulfilled it for him. 

Others hadn’t held up in the same way. Percy seemed to be constantly struggling. He blamed himself for Fred’s death, George wondered if he’d ever get to the same point as Percy or if numbness would be all he got.

‘Percy’s been drinking again.’ His father said after giving him a hug in greeting. 

‘He’s been drinking since we found out about Penelope.’

‘Well, yes, but I think it’s been worse since Ron and Hermione left for Australia. And he was fired from his job.’

‘What? Fired? Was he drinking there?’

‘I don’t think he even made it to the office if I’m honest.’ His dad said sadly. 

‘I’d offer to let him join me at the shop but I don’t think that’s going to be good for either of us if I’m honest.’

‘I know George, and I’m glad you know it too. One day at a time.’ His dad clapped him on the shoulder as they walked slowly towards the living room. 

‘Has Ginny been writing to you as well? Your mum thrives on hearing from her, I think she spends more time writing to us than doing her work.’

‘Yes, I hear from her weekly. She seems to be managing well with being back, I don’t know if I ever could. She’s been flying a lot.’

‘She’s always been an active one, after-effects of having six brothers I imagine.’ His dad gave him a slight smile. 

‘Well, that’s one of the best things about being raised with Ginny, you begin to think anything is possible if you’ve got enough drive. Fred always said so.’ George replied. He felt his eyes brimming with tears. He always knew he loved his siblings, but with Ron and Ginny away and Percy struggling, it dawned on him just how much they all mattered to him. This wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it, but every letter and conversation just hammered it home. He loved his family, with all their quirky mannerisms and chaotic lives. 

His dad looked at him gently then pulled him into a close hug. 

‘Grief is love that has no where to go. One day you’ll find where to direct it.’

‘If I ever find that Dad, I’ll run towards it at full speed.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I strongly suspect the chapters will start getting longer, but for now. Have this.


	3. This Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the lead up to the first Christmas without Fred, someone in the family has some important news, and an old friend makes things a little better.

Bill and Fleur were going to have a baby. It was such a foreign idea to him, he almost had to laugh at it. He and Fred would have spent ages teasing him about how they didn’t know you could get pregnant by holding hands and kissing, should they check in with their exes to make sure they didn’t have children they weren’t aware of? Bill had always found it hard to talk about sexual things, curses and mutations and horrific gore were all up his street, but sex? It was a wonderfully exploitable trait.  


He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows at Bill during the announcement to the family. Bill flipped him off. Though he saw that Bill was clearly pleased with the fact George was messing with him, he had slowed down on that front.  


Percy burst into tears. ‘It’s just such a great early Christmas present! Tell me everything, new life!’ He sobbed. Ron and Hermione wouldn’t be back until after Christmas now, having set off to see Hermione's parents again as soon as the Hogwarts holidays started. An owl wouldn’t reach Australia for a long time, so they’d have to wait to find out, which upset Percy even more.  


George and Ginny both rose from the table, they were sympathetic, but at a certain point comforting Percy just took too much out of them. Harry looked equally as panicked.  


‘Why don’t you go to the Leaky Cauldron for a small celebration of the good news?’ His dad suggested.  


‘Arthur, are you sure that’s a good idea? Away from home?’  


‘Of course Molly, I’m confident this lot can handle themselves and me, you, Percy and Fleur – and Bill? – can stay here and have a nice dinner.’  


Bill looked less than impressed at this suggestion, but Fleur seemed to like the idea so he settled back down next to her.  


‘We’ll sneak you back some Fire Whiskey.’ Harry muttered to him as he stood up.  


‘Wait, does that mean I’ll be 3rd wheeling? Harry and Gin-Gin and me?’  


‘What did you just call me?’ Ginny said darkly from the other side of the table.  


‘You’ve hung out with just the two of us before,’ Harry replied, choosing to ignore Ginny’s ire just had George had.  


‘Well no, I don’t think it’s fair actually,’ Bill added. ‘I should come with you just to make sure it’s not awkward.’  


‘My ‘ero.’ Fleur rolled her eyes but smiled at him. ‘I do not mind for tonight.’  


They all shot off to get their coats and, in Harry and Ginny’s case, get changed. ‘I’ve been playing quidditch in this all day, I’m not going out in it!’ and ‘The prophet will have a field day if I look too ‘unkempt’.’ Being called out in explanation. But finally, they were ready to set off.  


‘Have a good time. But stay safe. Don’t go off alone, don’t drink too much. Could one of you patronus every half an hour?’  


‘Mum, we’ll be safe, but no. I’m a grown man with a baby on the way, I’m not sending you a patronus every half hour.’  


‘Surely your wife would also like to know your where abouts? Don’t you care about keeping our stress levels low, especially Fleur, stress is bad for the baby.’  


‘I will patronus when we arrive, I will patronus if we change location, and I will patronus when we are about to leave. That is all.’  


‘And I’ll patronus every time one of us goes to the bathroom!’ George added. His mum pursed her lips but nodded.  


‘Bill’s patronuses will be enough, thank you George.’  


George didn't mention that was a good thing, because he'd tried a few months ago and knew he couldn't produce a corporeal patronus anymore.

***  


They found the Leaky Cauldron to be pleasantly quiet when they arrived, it wasn’t deserted but it wasn’t packed, so they found a table with relative ease. Bill bought them the first round.  


‘It’s so nice to be able to buy you a drink Ginny, instead of ‘buying an extra’ and then letting you drink it when no one is around.’  


George looked at him in outrage. ‘You never bought drinks for me and Fred!’  


‘Well of course I didn’t, you two didn’t need my help.’  


‘I didn’t need your help Bill, you just took a lot less convincing. George and Fred never shared theirs without some sort of trade.’  


‘I’d have thought Charlie would be the easiest to convince?’ Harry added.  


‘Oh he was, but Bill came home to visit more often.’ Ginny said with a smile.  


‘You’re a devious little creature, you know that.’ Bill said with a mildly impressed tone as he raised his glass slightly to her.  


‘She learned from the best.’ George added.  


‘Fred taught me all I know.’ Ginny quipped, and then paused, suddenly unsure. George felt a sudden rush in his chest, it was nice to talk about him the way they used to.  


‘That he did, but who do you think taught him?’ He smiled. Ginny smiled back.  


‘Me.’ Bill cut in suddenly.  


‘Oh please, if anyone taught me and Fred it was Charlie. You were too trying to cram as much knowledge about ancient runes into your head to help with pranks.’  


‘I’m the oldest, I taught Charlie!’  


‘Weren’t you only just two when Charlie was born?’ Harry asked, so far having been content to simply watch the siblings banter.  


‘Exactly, two years head start!’  


Ginny snorted into her drink as George just sat and shook his head. ‘Bill don’t have another drink, you’re already delusional.’  


‘You’re a git George.’  


‘That he is, but why specifically this time?’ A new voice called from behind them. Angelina Johnson stood with her hands on her hips, smiling at the group.  


‘Oh! Hello, are you here with anyone or would you like to join us?’ Harry offered immediately.  


‘If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to hear why George is a git.’  


They passed a couple of hours joking and smiling, catching up with Angelina. She’d just started a new role at Montford and Pilton's Medical Potions shop as a potioneer and was loving it so far.  


‘It’s great, not just because you get to help people, but you get to hear all their gossip and they’re always more thankful to me than I’ve ever seen anyone be to a medi-witch. I guess it’s because I’m the one that actually gives them the thing to help, even if I can’t diagnose for dragon dung.’  


‘I always knew you’d do something cool,’ George said, ‘you’re not just a pretty face.’  


‘True. I’m also amazing at quidditch and many other things; swimming, kissing, finding exactly the right page in a book on the first try.’ She said with put on air of nonchalance.  


‘You’re very modest too I see.’  


‘Modesty would be dishonesty Greasley.’  


Bill coughed up a bit of his butterbeer. ‘Greasley?’  


‘Yeah, George Weasley. Greasley. Georgie or G just don’t really have the same irreverent tone. Fred is Feasley. Was, sorry.’  


‘God, you haven’t called us by those names in years.’  


‘Yeah well when you left school it seemed a bit strange to write to Greasley and Feasley.’  


‘Aww, you’d have written to us?’  


‘I did write to you. Well, I wrote to Fred. Didn’t he mention it. I stopped writing when he started trying to get on with Felipe Fortesque, I felt a bit cheated when he started going after him you know.’  


‘Wait. Didn’t you snog Matthew Quiddington before he started trying it on with Felipe?’  


‘We cheated each other. Except we didn’t, because we weren’t together.’  


‘I thought you’d gone to the Yule Ball together?’ Ginny chimed in.  


‘Oh we did, but a couple of snogs and being a bit handsy a couple does not make.’  


‘Wait, Fred and the Fortesque guy? He was bi?’ Bill queried. ‘Not complaining, just didn’t know. What about you George?’  


‘Just because we’re twins doesn’t mean we share the same sexuality you know Bill. But also a gentleman never kisses and tells, even when they’re kissing other gentlemen. Which I have.’  


‘The revelations are coming out tonight, what about Ron? Harry, got any hints?’  


‘I’m pretty sure Ron has been Hermione-sexual for a long time. Even when he was after other girls it was either to make Hermione jealous or he was attracted to the qualities in them that made him think of her. The exception being Fleur, but I expect the Veela blood explains a lot of that.’  


‘My wife is excellent for many reasons Mr Potter, never forget that.’  


‘Duly noted, Bill. Duly noted. She’s growing another human now and everything.’  


‘If you have a boy you can’t name it Fred.’ George said suddenly. ‘If anyone names their child Fred it should be me, if I have children at all.’  


‘What if you don’t have children, is there an upper limit on how long the name is embargoed?’ Ginny asked.  


‘I’ll gift it to someone, if I don’t use it myself. Besides, you and Harry aren’t going to have a Fred, that’s far too normal for your name tastes. You’ll have like Plumbella and Endelion or something.’  


Harry blushed bright red at the implication of he and Ginny having children together, though George knew it was something he wanted and was almost certainly inevitable. Especially since Ginny was staring him down across the table.  


‘James or Lily, actually.’  


‘Oh, well that makes sense. Their middle names are going to be silly though. I can tell.’  


‘And on that note, I suspect we should all head home before mum does start insisting we patronus her every half an hour, I’ll let her know we’re setting off now. Lovely to catch up with you Angelina.’  


‘Nice to see you too Bill, congratulations again on the baby. Pass it on to Fleur as well. And nice to see you three, Ginny owl me after Christmas and I’ll see if I can drop by Hogwarts and give you a run for your money on the Quidditch front. Harry, I’m sure I’ll see you around, since we stock lots of pain potions. George, I’ll nip in when I’ve got breaks.’  


‘Yeah, we’ll see you around!’  


Once they got back, after much fussing from his mum, George went upstairs and went to bed in his room for the first time in months. Only once he was in bed did he reflect on how automatic it had been for him to head there, and how for the first time since the Christmas season started, he’d gone a whole evening without worrying what Christmas would be like without Fred.


	4. Coo Coo Coo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first anniversary of the battle is difficult, but someone comes along to make it a bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short one, but it's mostly soft and fluffy. And you get two chapters today to make up for it.

The anniversary of the battle was always going to be a hard day for all of them. So many wounds, physical and psychological, were still fresh. A year didn’t feel like long enough for anyone to be ready to have these huge societal reminders. 

George was another year older, but he’d not celebrated the day. No one had. He’d said that he’d organise another party, later on, when things were less emotional. His mum had spent the whole day sobbing. It hadn’t been a cheery affair. 

On the morning of the anniversary, George was awoken by the urgent tapping of an owl at his window. He’d moved back to the Diagon Alley flat after Christmas, running the shop alone was hard and sometimes it brought him down, but mostly it kept him busy and gave him purpose. He even met Angelina for lunch a few times as well as some other old Hogwarts friends who worked around the area. 

As he walked down the street people nodded at him, acknowledging his presence with pride and affection. He had always been well-liked at school, but more often than not the average adult would only tolerate him – and Fred – as they’d been too well known as troublemakers to be really respected. He hoped it was because of his role in the war, and not the absence of Fred, that had changed their minds. 

The owls tapping and scratching drew his attention more urgently. Just as in summer, for a brief moment he thought and hoped the letter was from Fred. It had all been a big, year long prank, gotcha! But before he’d even opened the window he knew it wasn’t true. They were pranksters, but they would never have been so cruel. 

His heart lurched when he saw the handwriting looked almost identical to Fred’s, surely it couldn’t be? It could not. It was Bill. 

_Dear George, It’s a girl! Fleur delivered our daughter in the very early hours of this morning, a brilliant effort on her part. I’m sure she’d have been a Gryffindor if she’d been at Hogwarts! We’re accepting visitors from this afternoon, although if you want to wait for a different day then I understand. We’ve named her Victoire Gabrielle Weasley. In honour of her birthday and her Auntie Bri. She was 6.8 pounds and 21 inches long – tall and slim, like her mother! She’s wonderful, and I can’t wait for her to meet everyone. A rainbow for today. Love, Bill_

George smiled down at the letter. Slowly his tears dripped onto the page, smudging some of the words, he quickly wiped them off his face. He wanted to keep this letter. 

But the thought wouldn’t leave him, Victoire would never meet ‘everyone’. That opportunity was long gone, a year long gone, in fact. What would Fred have made of his niece? They’d always joked that babies weren’t really for them, strange alien snot monsters that cried and pooed and ate on repeat. 

But he found he really enjoyed spending time with Teddy, watching him learn new things and slowly become more human. Even if right now he was probably less sentient than a cat, Teddy was still cool. Would Fred have felt the same way? Would he even feel the way he does now, or if Fred had lived would he never have had the relationship with Teddy that he developed? They wouldn’t have been at home when Teddy visited. If Fred hadn’t died maybe Tonks and Remus wouldn’t have either, and then who knows where they’d have ended up. 

He’d never know the answer to these questions. 

George sighed. He’d better prepare to meet the newest Weasley then. And prepare for lots of tears, perhaps he could make sure to visit when his mum and Percy weren’t there. But he supposed his mother was probably stationed there and refusing to leave, so there would be no avoiding her. 

His parents had been mentioning visiting the grave. He didn’t know if he could face that, but maybe it would get them out of the way for a bit so he could meet Victoire without being smothered. He loved his mother, deeply, and he knew that losing Fred had damaged her to pretty much the same extent that it had him. 

‘The word for a child that loses their parents is orphan. There is no word for a parent who loses a child, because no word can encompass that loss.’ Angelina had said to him over one of their lunches. 

He didn’t ask her how she’d known that, he knew her father died when she was quite young though, before her paternal grandparents. He knew she’d known grief long before he had.

He spent the morning alone, listening to the sounds of the street below. He heard as it went silent at 10am for the minutes silence the Ministry suggested as a way to honour those who were lost. As though people shutting up for a minute could sum up the pain and suffering their loved ones felt. 

He got up and showered. He opened the door to Fred’s room, he hadn’t touched it yet. Staring at the proof that Fred Weasley had lived and been loud and wild and joyous. And George had been right there at his side for every adventure. But he couldn’t let it overwhelm him, he had to keep going. 

Shortly after lunch, he pulled a jacket over his shoulders and floo’d to Shell Cottage. The blissful atmosphere of his brother’s household jarred against his mood, and for a brief moment he resisted. 

But in the end he let the calming warmth of happiness settle over him.

‘Hello George,’ Bill whispered to him when he had dusted off. ‘Fleur is having a nap, but Victoire is in the other room with mum and dad.’

‘Percy?’ George whispered back.

‘He’s spending all day at the graves; mum and dad are going to join him later. Ginny’s still at school and apparently having a monumental strop at not being allowed to visit until the weekend.’ 

‘Merlin help the teachers involved in handling that.’

‘Agreed, though I suspect Hermione will manage it. She was also sad to be at Hogwarts for another few days but their exams are coming so she’s also concerned about those. Harry and Ron nipped by bang on noon at the start of their lunch break. I think they’ll come back again at the weekend with the girls.’

‘Don’t give them ideas.’

Bill chuckled softly. 

‘Congratulations.’ George added, realising he hadn’t said it yet, he was too caught up in worrying about interacting with the others.

‘Thank you, it’s not a feeling I think I can describe. Come and meet her.

They shuffled into the small living room of the Cottage. His mum was fussing over her travel cot ‘I’m just sure the blanket I knitted fits the colour scheme!’. His dad was sat on the sofa cradling the tiny infant, looking down at her with a besotted smile. He looked up as his sons entered the room. 

‘Ah, George. Do you want to hold her? She’s mostly just a bit sleepy at the moment – the best time to meet her before she starts to get grizzly for food or a change.’

George gently crossed the room to sit with his father.

‘Make sure you support her head. There you go.’

He looked down at the small face of his niece. He warm, heavy weight rested against his arms and chest. It felt grounding. He didn’t fall deeply in love with her, not the way his parents and brother had, but he supposed that was normal. He felt protective, nothing like what had happened to him would ever happen to her, he would ensure it. Fred died to ensure it. 

‘It’s nice to meet you.’ He whispered to the sleeping baby. 


	5. Million Miles Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the stress finally gets to George, leading him to make decisions that might not be wise. He finds comfort in the company of a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter for this upload session, distinctly less fluffy.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be on a fact-finding mission for your Auror training?’ 

‘I am. They wanted facts about easily accessible potion ingredients that double as explosives. You’re basically a walking encyclopaedia.’ 

George sighed over his experimental product. ‘Sure, what do you need to know?’ 

‘There are limits on getting certain ingredients, especially if it’s known you’ve bought others that have negative combinations. How do you get around it? Other than going to different ingredient shops, but the charms on the door should be able to know your purchases. Is it mail order?’ 

‘Am I going to get in trouble for answering these questions? And no, mail order won’t send half the ingredients because they know they’re controlled.’ 

‘Are you planning to create bomb packages and mail them to important members of the Wizengamot in an attempt to force a law that will bring back public defecation?’ 

‘Not this week.’ 

‘Good enough. No then, this source will remain anonymous.’ 

‘Cool. The way you do it is firstly to order things as ‘kits’ you know like ‘brew your own pickling potion’ stuff. They have the controlled substances but you can buy a range of them without anyone batting an eye, it’s a loop hole in the laws. Secondly, some of them you can just make yourself – poison ivy and hinkypunk claw tincture is controlled, but the poison ivy on its own, the claws on their own and books telling you which spells to use to combine them are all freely available. It’s a bit riskier that way, but still doable.’ 

Ron was studiously noting down what was being said, nodding along to his advice. 

‘I’m spelling myself in the foot here aren’t I?’ 

‘A little,’ Ron shrugged. ‘But I don’t think this will necessarily become laws, it’ll just help us track down the people who need to be stopped.’ 

‘Fair enough then. Can you pass me that flask? The one with the Popping Potion in it’ 

‘Sure, here you go. I’m not sure it should be that colour though, isn’t Popping Potion supposed to be dark green?’ 

‘It is dark green, you’re just a colour-blind twat.’ 

‘I don’t think it is George, it’s too yellow. How long has it been out since brewing? Maybe you should make another batch.’ 

‘Sod off Ron, this is my job and I’m doing it just fine.’ 

‘Alright, but maybe you should do a shield charm first?’ 

‘Merlin’s balls, Ron. This is my job. It’s my potion. You’re in my shop. You’re not my business partner!’ 

‘Maybe someone should be if you’re taking risks like this! Would Fred have been ok with using a questionable ingredient?’ 

‘Fred’s not here to know.’ 

George turned back to the potion, which did look a little off colour, but it was too late to go back now. He tipped it into the compartment in the fake chocolate frog. In theory this would make it so as soon as you tried to bite into it the frog would ‘pop’ into a range of glittering lights that would then fade. 

‘See it’s totally fine!’ 

Ron approached the table and peered at the frog curiously. ‘You know, you could add that the lights spell out insults. Should be a fairly simple charm. I don’t want to step on your toes thou—’ 

The fake chocolate frog exploded in a flash of reds and greens. It was much more violent than the pop should have been. The sparks started to singe everything they touched. Ron staggered backwards clutching his face. 

‘Arrrgh! Bloody hell!’ 

‘Show me your eyes Ron! I need to see if they’re ok!’ 

Ron slowly lowered his hands and blinked up at him. They were red and sore, leaking slightly from the tears that had sprung up around the wound. ‘Potentially the potion wasn’t quite right.’ 

‘No shit. At least my exploration of sources on explosion will look more credible now.’ 

‘I really am sorry.’ 

‘Sure. I’m going to go now.’ 

‘Your idea was really good, about the lights.’ 

‘See you later, George.’ And he was gone. 

George let out a long sigh and collapsed back into his chair. He sagged down into it and closed his eyes, not for the first time he desperately wished he could undo the last 10 minutes of his life. God, he was an idiot. He sat in his own head for several minutes. Until a knock at the door made him look up. Angelina peered in. 

‘You alright Greasley, it’s almost lunch time so I wondered if you wanted to grab something that the Leaky? Are you alright?’ 

‘Ron was just here, he got caught up in one of my classic, near miss, accidents. Just feels a bit shit.’ 

‘Mistakes are going to happen.’ 

‘It happened because I wouldn’t listen to his concerns about the potion or put up any safety charms.’ 

‘Well that was pretty stupid of you, but now you know better.’ 

George started crying. Steady tears fell down his cheeks. 

‘Oh no, George, it’s alright. Was Ron ok?’ 

‘He was fine, a bit pissed off but no lasting damage at all.’ 

‘Then it was lucky but it was alright, why the tears?’ 

‘Fred wouldn’t have made a mistake like that. And he wouldn’t have ignored Ron’s warnings. He probably would have already suggested that we make a new batch of potion or take precautions. Especially with Ron in the room.’ 

Angelina perched herself on the side of his chair and let him lean into her stomach as he spoke. 

‘He would have thought of the extra thing Ron suggested too.’ 

‘Lucky Ron was here to give you the inspiration then.’ 

‘I hurt another one of my brothers.’ 

‘You’re his brother, it’s par for the course.’ 

‘No. No. I hurt him because I was headstrong and stupid. I hurt him by not listening to him. I hurt him because Fred’s not here and I need him. I need his advice.’ George started to sob properly now. 

‘I.’ **Sob** ‘Want.’ **Sob** ‘Fred.’ 

‘I know you do,’ Angelina said softly to him as she held him close to her. ‘We all do, but I know you do most of all. And I’m sorry that the world is cruel and that the price of a free world was blood. It fucking sucks.’

‘But he’s not **here**. I just want to talk to him. Why…’ 

The tears overwhelmed him, and an ache grew in his chest. Like there was a gaping hole in the middle of his lungs making it hard to breath and forcing out even more tears. 

It hurt. It hurt more than he’d ever anticipated. 

They sat for a long time as George cried properly for the first time since Fred’s death. His sobs racking his body and the tears never seeming to end. The hole in his chest kept growing, and then just as he felt he couldn't cry anymore the ache would return a new. He was almost sure he'd be sick from the sniffling, or that eventually he'd be so dehydrated he'd run out of tears. But it kept on going. The situation with Ron, awful as it had felt, hadn't been _that_ awful, it had just caused a small crack in the dam, and now it was all flooding out. All the pain and the knowledge that this was forever, that every time he wanted to talk to Fred from now on would be impossible, it could never happen, he could never talk to his twin again.

He had known, he’d even been told, that at some point the fact Fred really was gone would come really get to him. But he’d cried so much and he’d grieved, so why now? More than a year later? He asked Angelina as much when his tears slowed. 

‘No idea,’ she shrugged softly. ‘These things just come out, it can take a little while. You've probably been in shock until now, or maybe a bit of denial. I know it doesn't feel like it, but this is part of the process and from now you can move on to the other parts of grief.’ 

'Like what, exactly? I wasn't aware there was an order I was supposed to do things in.' George mumbled into her cloak, still damp from his crying.

'I don't think it's necessarily a step-by-step thing, it's not like there's a timeline to it. It's more that there have been some generally understood parts to the grieving process, even the Muggles know them.'

‘Huh, so all of that was 'good' for me?'

'Things that are good for you can be painful, think of all that quidditch training. Hurt like hell but it made us stronger.'

'Wow. Deep metaphor there, AJ. Sorry I ruined your lunch time. You’re going to be late back.’ 

‘Eh, I’ll tell Madam Falworth that I ate something funny and can’t come back in. I’ve never missed a day yet so she’ll believe me.’ 

‘You don’t need to do that, I’ll be ok.’ 

‘I’m sure you will, but your potion clearly sucked and I happen to be very good at potions. So I’ll lend you hand with it and then we can skive off a bit early, maybe go catch a muggle film or something.’ 

‘That sounds a little bit like a date you know.’ 

‘Nonsense. It’s entirely pity. And you’re paying for the cinema, in payment for getting snot on my top.’ 

‘Bloody ruthless.’ George gave a watery smile. 

‘One of my best qualities.’


	6. Prove You Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas time again and George is fed up of the decidedly un-Fred-approved way people act about his twin's death.

The second Christmas without Fred was, by far, worse than the first one.

Bill and Fleur now had a 7-month-old baby, who was lovely and adorable and flat out refused to sleep. They were tired, grumpy, and seemed to think that theirs was the hardest existence in the world.

Ginny and Hermione were done with school and constantly disagreeing over career paths. They’d only been working for a few months, but it was enough for them to have some explosive arguments. Hermione had gone into a very junior level in the Ministry, but she still had big ideas and things to fight for, which surprised no one. The Holyhead Harpies scouted Ginny into their reserve team after she trialled for several professional teams over the summer, this also surprised no one. What had come as a shock was how much they seemed to be at each other’s throats over the whole business.

‘She just doesn’t want to settle down, it’s because she’s not processed her trauma fully.’

‘Fuck off – sorry Mum – about my trauma Hermione. I love Quidditch and I’m amazing at it. Just because I don’t want to work for the fu- freaking government doesn’t mean I’m not as ‘well-adjusted’ as you.’

‘Oh really, you want to play a sport that is well known for being incredibly violent? And you’re telling me you’ve _moved on_ from the war? Excuse me if I think you’re full of it.’

‘Oh, so doing something dangerous means I’m stuck in the past does it? Then how come you’re so proud of Harry and Ron.’

‘They’re doing _good_ in society. What good does Quidditch do exactly?’

‘About as much good, if not more, as Internal Ministry Auditing Deputies I imagine.’

Ron and Harry had taken to lurking in the same room as them so they could step in before things escalated too much. George wasn’t enjoying the tension.

Percy was doing a bit better. He was working and seemed to be in some sort of program at St Mungo’s for his drinking. George suspected a lot of difficult conversations had occurred between his dad and Percy. Frustratingly, since Victoire’s birth Percy had taken to solemnly toasting Fred at every major family event, a part of the day all of them dreaded.

The remaining Weasley siblings – sans Ron, and Harry, who were still valiantly trying to soothe Hermione’s rage – gathered in the living room.

‘When do you think the dreaded toast will happen this time?’ Charlie asked the room, leaning on the door frame.

‘Not sure, really could be any time from the moment Percy is satisfied no unexpected guests will turn out, in case we have to do it again.’ Bill replied, bouncing Victoire in his hands as she chewed messily on one of her fists.

George groaned slightly, Ginny’s 18th birthday had included lots people stopping by to say hello and give their best wishes. They’d had to do that damn toast about 5 times.

‘I don’t know why mum and dad don’t put a stop to it, they find it just as uncomfortable as the rest of us.’

‘Probably something to do with accepting we all grieve differently, I don’t _disagree_ per se, but…’ Bill trailed off.

‘But when it infringes on the rest of us maybe he should reconsider?’ Ginny asked in a falsely cheery voice.

‘That was remarkably diplomatic.’

‘Harry says I should practice, so that when I talk to Hermione it might come more easily.’

‘Or it’ll use it all up.’

‘Or that.’

George constantly found Percy’s approach tiring, but like the others he’d tried to be nice about it. Everyone handles these things differently, and Percy had really struggled – was still really struggling – so it felt mean to kick out at him. But at the same time, couldn’t Percy see that he was upsetting them all? Why did they have to defer to his grief when he clearly wasn’t paying attention to theirs? Did that make him selfish? Perhaps. But once he realised it would become a regular ‘thing’ he’d tried to avoid being in the room for it. The pressure to be there so that no one thought he didn’t care, that he wasn’t grieving too. He didn’t know how anyone would think that about him, how could they? But he knew that in the more public places or if anyone casually mentioned it within hearing distance of the press it would certainly be painted like that.

It didn’t take long, once Andromeda and Teddy arrived and they’d sat down for their customary Christmas Eve family meal Percy stood, glass in hand.

‘I know I’m going to do this tomorrow as well, but it’s important we all acknowledge and remember…’

_We all bloody well do already_ George thought bitterly.

‘That there are people missing from this table who ought to be here. Who were brave and gallant, but ultimate lost their lives for the greater good. Who now remain only in our hearts and in our heads…’

_It’s a bit roomy inside yours, Big Head Boy_ came a thought that sounded suspiciously like Fred’s voice. George snorted a little, trying to cough to disguise his laugh. It didn’t quite work.

‘Excuse me, George, do you think our fallen loved ones are funny?’ Percy demanded, his ears going a little pink.

‘Of course not Percy,’ George rankled at the accusation. ‘I just think that, having actually _known_ the people we lost, they’d all be bored to absolute tears at your speech.’

Ginny and Charlie both looked away quickly, and George knew they were trying to hide their smiles.

‘How dare you, here I am, honouring their memories and you’re being completely ungrateful for their sacrifice!’

‘Ungrateful? Ungrateful?! Of course I’m fu—sorry Andromeda, flipping ungrateful! They didn’t ‘sacrifice’, not like that git,’ George jerked his head towards Harry, who went slightly pink at the acknowledgement, ‘they were senselessly murdered. They helped us win, absolutely, but I’m not about to sit here and listen to you wax on about how noble they all were when we know full well that Fred, Remus and Tonks would all rather _be here themselves_ or at least that were having a good time thinking about them, rather than dreading the moment they get brought up. How dishonouring to Fred’s memory to say we can’t laugh when we talk about our memories of him!’

The dinner table was silent. Percy looked stuck between fury and despair. Slowly and carefully he sat down, downed his ginger beer, and then flicked his pea-loaded fork directly at George’s face. George grinned at him. Slammed his fist down on the table and shot his carrot in Percy’s direction. Except he missed and it ended up hitting Harry right in the nose.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll defend you!’ Ginny called, grabbing a roast potato off of Harry’s plate and hurling it back at George, who dodged well enough that it ended up hitting Charlie instead. The exchange of well-aimed vegetables continued for a few more minutes, with Ron managing a rather spectacular one-handed carrot catch to protect Hermione. His mum watched the unfolding debacle with unusual serenity, it was only when a rogue parsnip came dangerously close to Victoire's face (not to mention Fleur’s hair) that she finally stepped in.

‘Right, that’s enough! Honestly, you’re all of age and you’re setting a terrible example for the little ones! I never thought I’d have to tell my _grown up_ children to not throw food.’

‘Molly dear, I think you’ve regularly imagined scenarios where you’ve had to tell them not to throw food.’ George’s dad said mildly. George noted that his dad had been happily tucking in to his meal as the chaos ensued. Classic.

‘Alright,’ George said, ‘but how about some classic Weasley fireworks after dinner?’

‘The muggles in the village will think we’re doing New Year early.’ Hermione said, frowning slightly.

‘Ah, well they already think we’re a bit barmy, don’t they?’ Ron said cheerful, his mouth full of potato now he’d realised he could eat the food as well as throw it.

‘Ok.’ Percy said, looking George in the eyes for the first time in several years.

***

After their meal, which had gone much better once they were only putting the food in their mouths, they walked out to the orchard together. It was a remarkably bright night for mid-December, cold and frosty but with a clear view of the stars.

Bill and Charlie set up the fireworks George had salvaged from the stock in his room, and they stood close together watching the bright colours. Ooh-ing and aah-ing when one of the fireworks did something particularly impressive. The bright colours, and the laughter from Teddy and Vic, who had the sound slightly muffled so they could just enjoy the pretty lights, felt much better than the toast.

George found himself tearing up. This was better, it was more fitting, and it made him miss them all so much more. He felt the warmth of his family knowing it should feel like a balm, but instead the togetherness and the affection instead made the gaping holes of loss feel even deeper. He muffled his face into his lovingly knitted scarf and hid his tears from his family. They wouldn’t notice with the fireworks, and it was clearly making them happy, he didn’t want to ruin that.

It soon became apparent to him that Percy wasn’t watching the fireworks either. George’s teary eyes looked up and met Percy’s, equally watery eyes, across the family group. They nodded at each other and slowly peeled away from the group, though they didn’t head back inside the stood a little way from the others.

‘I’m sorry about the speech. It was the best idea I could come up with, but clearly it wasn’t what people needed. I never do what people _need_.’

‘Sorry for shouting at you about it, I know you meant it well and you wanted to do something nice.’

‘But that’s just it isn’t it, when I mean well I do harm and when I mean to do harm, I do harm. Sometimes I wonder if there was another red-haired infant at St Mungo’s and our parents picked up the wrong one.’

‘I think we were all home births if I’m honest. Sorry, I know that’s not your point. You’re one of us Percy, we don’t always get you and you don’t always get us, but you’re still one of us.’

‘I shouldn’t be.’ Percy replied, bitterly. ‘I got Fred killed. You can’t deny it. He was distracted by me. The fighting was probably worse because I allowed it to be. He was spending time near me because we hadn’t seen each other in ages, if I’d stuck around perhaps I’d have been fighting on my own and it would have been me who died instead, and things would be better.’

‘Things wouldn’t be better. I don’t know what I can do or say to prove you wrong, but you are. You saw how mum was, can you imagine if you’d died before she’d been able to talk to you and reconcile? The whole experience showed me how much our parents love all of us equally. I know it was something all of us have questioned, there are so many of us it’s hard to imagine that they could actually love us all the same. But I don’t think their pain would be any less if any of us had died instead of Fred. It’d just be a different shaped hole.’

‘How do you do it? How are you so calm when you must be in so much pain?’

‘I dunno Perce, it’s there, the pain. And sometimes it overwhelms me, I’m sure it won’t ever stop doing that. I heard a song from Phantasmal on the wireless the other day, you know the one you were furious about us sneaking to the gig of when it was ‘of age’ wizards and witches only?’

Percy chuckled slightly, ‘I still can’t believe you succeeded in tricking the age spell-detection.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s one of the reasons we thought we could get past Dumbledore’s age line. Clearly that came back to bite us. But yeah, anyway, one of their songs came on the wireless while I was heading out to meet Lee for a pint, I had to stop for about 10 minutes and just cry it out. Couldn’t even find my keys through the tears. It is there Perce, I miss him every day, all the time. But I keep going, because I don’t much like the other options either.’

‘And here I am, taking the other options.’

‘You’re doing loads better.

‘Everyday is a fight.’

‘Good job you don’t have to do it alone then.’


	7. Wonderful Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life seems to be tracking on-wards. Big changes are being considered - if not acted on - and George (well, Angelina) finds himself as a sounding board for his family.

Weasley family burst into the new millennium with a newfound positivity.

George’s new products sold well, Ron’s Auror training was almost complete, Bill was devoted to Victoire, and Percy kept pushing through. He had more meetings at St Mungo’s and he seemed to getting his life back together.

‘Afternoon George.’

‘Hullo Percy, what brings you in today? I thought you found Wheezes ‘too chaotic’?’

‘Yes, I do, but I wanted to ask you about something.’

George blinked at him, he wasn’t sure he could remember any other time when Percy had asked him for advice.

‘Erm, sure. What’s up?’

‘There’s a new woman in the office, she’s a muggle born. Her family have just moved back to the country, they went to stay with friends in Spain for the last few years.’

‘Ok. What about her?’

‘I really like her.’

‘Alright. I’m still not sure how I can help you here.’

‘How do I deal with it? How do I get over her? I can’t _be_ with her! I was part of the government her family had to run away from, she’ll despise me as soon as she knows. I was wondering if I could prank her into not liking me, and then I wouldn’t need to worry about it.’

‘Wow, you’ve thought it through and come to such a strange conclusion. Erm, tell you what, are you off on Saturday?’

‘Yes?’

‘Ok, come by at lunch and come eat with me and Angelina. She’s much better at this stuff than I am.’

‘Oh, are you and Angelina together? I didn’t know.’

‘No, we just meet for lunch about once a month. And we went to the muggle cinema together fairly often.’

‘That sounds like you are kind of together.’

‘Well, we aren’t. We’ve never talked about it, we’ve not kissed, not together. Besides, she went out with Fred for a bit, it’d be weird.’

‘I think we all know she didn’t really ‘go out’ with Fred. Do you want to be with her?’

‘Oi, who came to who for personal advice here? It’s not important. Come for a meal with us on Saturday and she’ll sort you out.’

***

Saturday came remarkably quickly. He’d sent Angelina a quick letter after Percy’s visit asking if she was ok with the fact he’d invited his brother.

‘Of course. Although if I wasn’t alright with it, it’d be a bit late now wouldn’t it?’ was the only response he’d received, so he assumed it was fine.

He and Angelina settled into their usual seats in The Common Room, a new-ish café that had opened after the war.

‘Percy seemed to think we were dating when I told him about these lunches.’

‘Huh, did you say we weren’t?’

‘I did.’

‘Well then, we can all stay in Egypt for a bit longer then.’

‘That would be best, I think. We’ll talk about it… at some point.’

‘We sound really badly adjusted.’

‘At least we’re true to ourselves. Did you want to catch the 6:30 evening show next Thursday, by the way?’

‘Oh, yeah it looked good. Are we dressing up for it?’

‘Sure, why not? But it’s not a date.’

‘Of course, it’s not a date. We’re not dating, I’m not even looking for a romantic partner right now.’

‘Of course.’

The arrival of Percy but an end to their not-quite-conversation. He panted slightly, clearly having rushed from the floo in the Leaky Cauldron.

‘Hi Percy, nice to see you.’ Angelina smiled at him. ‘Take a seat and order, then we can properly chat.’

They picked their food and Percy filled Angelina in on the ‘situation’ at work. George felt it sounded even more silly a second time round, but Percy seemed fairly desperate.

‘Well, firstly, have you actually told her anything and she’s said she hates you?’

‘Well no, but of course she will. All muggle-borns must do, surely.’

‘Yeah, just like Hermione does.’ George pointed out, Hermione was still one of the few people that genuinely got on with Percy when he was talking about tedious work topics.

‘She’s different, she’ll probably be my sister-in-law eventually and for some reason all of you seem to still like me.’

‘I don’t think you’re being fully rational here Perce.’

‘Secondly,’ Angelina interrupted, ‘I think you owe it to her to let her choose to dislike you for the appropriate reasons.’

‘What?’ Percy and George asked together, looking at her in confusion.

‘Well you said you wanted to prank her into not liking you. Which suggests that she does already like you a bit, and that you’d like to avoid talking to her about it while giving her another reason to dislike you. I think that’s a bit disrespectful, she’s her own person and she deserves to have the appropriate information if she’s going to give up on someone she quite likes.’

‘I hadn’t even thought of it like that.’

‘That’s probably because you’ve got a butt-ton of brothers and one sister who can get the truth out of people by sheer force of will.’

‘You’ve been very helpful, thank you. So, are you and George, like, a thing?’

George felt like slamming his face directly into his soup, it couldn’t be worse than sitting through this conversation.

‘Eh, probably.’ Angelina shrugged. Percy seemed even more confused.

‘What do you mean ‘probably’?’

‘She means, eh, probably. We haven’t really talked about it.’ George weighed in, figuring he may as well back up Angelina’s sort of answer, even if it made his stomach swoop.

‘You two don’t make any sense.’

‘Just roll with it Percy, it makes life much easier.’

***

A few weeks later a rather harangued looking Harry dropped by to see him.

‘I want to marry Ginny.’

‘Ok, tell me something I don’t know.’

‘Well should I ask her? I don’t know if I should. What if she thinks I mean I want babies? I mean, I do want babies, but not necessarily right now. And what if the team think she’s using her Potter status to get boosted? Maybe I shouldn’t ask her? Should I get a ring anyway?’

‘Woah. Woah. Cast a cooling charm there Harry. If Tim, Tim, evil and Dim didn’t kill you off I think it would be a bit silly to die from stress so soon afterwards.’

‘Did you just call Voldemort… Tim?’

‘Yeah, you said he was actually called Tom, right?

‘Um, yeah, and he hated it.’

‘Exactly, and what would he hate more than being called his real name? Someone calling him by not-quite his real name.’ George said with a level of triumph.

‘Erm…’

‘Think about it, Henry.’

‘My name isn’t Henry.’

‘Exactly, Hazza, it’s a pain when people call you not quite the right thing isn’t it? And Tim Roddle can turn in his pathetic little grave over it.’

Harry laughed.

‘Anyway, have you, you know… actually asked my sister what she wants to do about getting married?’

‘Seems a bit unromantic.’

‘Merlin, look I’m not great at romance, I’m not sure I’m the person you want to ask. Why don’t you ask Angelina, or one of the other Quidditch team women, they know both of you well and probably have some better insight.’

‘You’re right. Yeah.’

A few days later Angelina dropped by, outside of their usual lunch time.

‘Did you tell the literal saviour of the Wizarding World to write to me about the woes of his love life?’

‘I did say he could write some other people too.’

She sighed. ‘I mean, I’m happy to. And I don’t think they’ll be getting married any time soon. He’s got some quite clear ideas of what marriage entails, and so does she based on the conversations we had in the locker rooms and in informal practices years ago, so I wouldn’t think on it yet.’

‘Cool, I like them as a couple, but they are a bit young.’

‘Are you going to keep recommending people chat to me?’

‘I expect so, you’re quite clever you know.’

‘I’m flattered, but my land-lady is getting a bit annoyed with all the owls and floo calls, I’m even getting the odd patronus.’

‘Ah, yeah that is a bit inconvenient. Where is your flat anyway?’

‘Oh it’s near Putney Bridge, there’s a few Wizarding streets down there. Bit inconvenient for getting to work, I get the muggle tube a lot – it’s quite fun actually – but not ideal.’

‘D’you want Fred’s room? I’ve been meaning to clear it out, and I think I could do with some company when I do it. If you help you can have the room rent free. It’ll be easier for your work and all the people I tell to talk to you instead will be able to do it much more easily.’

‘I… yeah. That would be great actually. Sure, my lease needs renewing at the end of March actually, so we could aim for April?’

‘Nice. That’d be cool.’

***

Ron occasionally popped round in the evenings for a drink or two. It was quite nice, George felt, to finally start having and adult form of sibling relationship with him. They had a similar mindset and, while he didn’t have the creative powers Fred had, he always seemed to make a small tweak that made a product just that little bit better.

‘I’m going to ask Hermione to marry me.’

George spluttered into his beer. For fuck’s sake, was there something in the water with all of these people? And why did they all feel the need to talk to him about it?

‘Great, sounds good.’

‘Yeah, I thought so. We got even closer during the time in Australia, and I’ve basically known I wanted to marry her since I was about 14, so I think it makes sense to do it now.’ He looked a bit nervous. ‘Also, she’s beginning to move up at the Ministry and she’s definitely going to meet lots of really clever and handsome men.’

‘Don’t bet on it, I don’t work at the Ministry.’

‘Ha, bloody, ha.’

‘Look, Ronnikins, if you want to marry her because you love her and you feel like it’s an important step in your relationship – I think it’s just a piece of paper to stop mum nagging, if I’m honest – but if it matters to you, then go for it. But if you’re only doing it because you’re insecure in her love for you, then that’s a crap reason and I can’t see it ending will in the long run.’

‘Since when did you get so wise?’

‘I’ve been hanging out with Angelina a lot, she’s good at this emotional chat stuff.’

‘Huh, gross. But all excellent points. Thanks for talking to me about it, I’ll give it a bit more thought and see if I can work out what my motivations really are.’

‘Great. Can we talk about something else now?’ George pleaded.

‘Sure! Have you seen the new Chudley Canon’s transfers to handle the post-Winter injuries?’

‘… So when are you thinking of asking Hermione to marry you again?’


	8. Planet Mars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Angelina take a step that involves reflecting on their losses. Friends and family make it better.

The weekend before George’s 22nd birthday, he and Angelina got together to clear out Fred’s old room.

‘Remember, we don’t have to get rid of anything if you don’t want to, we can always just put it in a box in storage and come back to it.’

‘You’ve said that about four times now, I know, it’s ok.’

‘And we’ve got friends coming for dinner tonight, Hermione keeps talking about all these Muggle ‘take-a-fars’ or something, apparently they do loads of types of foods you don’t see much in Wizarding communities.’

‘Yeah, although I think we’re just having pizza tonight. Right, lets do this before I over-think it.’

They started with Fred’s desk. There were lots of old Weasley Wizard Wheezes documents, a couple of letters from friends, and the occasional crude drawing or hang-man word that he’d apparently saved. About 45 minutes into clearing out the desk George pulled out a scrappy looking notebook, which turned out to be full of half-baked product ideas.

‘Some of these are amazing, I could make them work…’

‘You should, maybe you could even space them out for a while and have a ‘Fred’s Speciality’ product as a theme?’

‘That’s a great idea, some of them need tweaking a bit though. I might ask Ron’s opinion on it tonight, or at some point.’

They continued on, throwing out some old odds and ends, but mostly carefully putting Fred’s possessions into boxes that were spelled to keep them safe. George did most of the packing, but Angelina sat and chatted to him, keeping things light while also giving him the space to get emotional when they found things that held sentimental value. She also created a short list of everything going into each box, using a sticking charm so they stayed on the front after each box was closed up.

‘In case you ever need to find something but don’t want to hunt through all of the boxes.’ She’d said.

Finally, they only had the wardrobe left. And for the most part, it was fine, lots of the items were just day to day wear. But then there were his old dress robes, still hanging from the Yule Ball.

‘I had no idea he still had these.’ George chuckled as he held them up, turning to show Angelina. But she didn’t laugh in return. He looked over at her as her face crumpled into tears.

‘That was my first kiss, that night. It’s so strange that the man who kissed me is gone. I didn’t love him like that, and he didn’t love me like that, but it’s still strange. How someone can mean so much in your life and then one day just not be in it anymore.’

‘Oh, A.J. Do you want a hug or nah?’ George asked, Angelina regularly said that when she was feeling very sad she just wanted to sit in it, no affection, it would only make it worse.

‘I’m already crying,’ she hiccoughed ‘so it can’t make it any worse.’

He lay the robes carefully over a storage box and went to sit next to her. Wrapping an arm over her shoulders as she turned into his chest.

‘Sorry, I was supposed to be the emotional support for you.’

‘One of us was always going to cry, frankly I’m glad that it’s not me for a change!’

‘You’re ridiculous, what if both of us had cried?’

‘Nah, we’d never let that happen. One of us has to be able to cheer the other up.’ She laughed a little. ‘See, told you so.’

In the end they managed to pack away most of the remaining clothes without incident. George perched at the end of what-was-once-Fred’s bed, holding a knitted jumper with a large F on the front.

‘What should I do with it? There are a couple of the smaller ones in the last drawer as well. Unlike some of the other stuff I can’t wear it and even if the boxes keep things safe I don’t want to pack them away.’

‘How about putting some in a box, and if you ever have children you could get your mum to turn them into a baby blanket?’

‘And if I don’t have kids?’

‘A grown-up blanket.’

‘Yeah, yeah I like that. It keeps them useful but in a garishly colourful way. Very Fred.’

‘Very Fred.’

‘Thanks for helping me with this today.’

‘It wasn’t a problem, but it wasn’t exactly pure altruism either, I am getting to live here.’

‘Even so.’

‘Any time, George, I’ll always help you.’

***

Their friends and family turned up later that evening, Hermione and Ron were clutching some pizza boxes that smelled amazing.

‘I shouldn’t, I’m supposed to be on a training diet.’ Ginny said cheerfully, as she carefully selected the cheesiest piece she could find.

‘Your body is perfect the way it is.’ Harry said to her.

‘Ew, don’t say that sort of thing where people can hear you mate.’ Ron moaned, rolling his eyes at them and turning away to the kitchen area. George smiled, all of them quite liked Harry and Ginny together. The Weasley men had all had snippets of conversations with each other when Ginny and Harry started their relationship, and again when they realised it was serious. The general consensus was that Harry was a pretty good bloke, and if he wasn’t, well they’d all fought with Ginny in the past, she could take him. Easily.

‘I don’t think you really should make things like that public, especially when you’re not in places like this, you never know who might tell the press.’ Hermione told them.

‘Yeah, I trust a lot of people about as far as I could throw them.’ Lee Jordan added, nodding along to Hermione’s lecture with mock seriousness.

‘Babies are people, and you can throw one of those quite far…’ Neville mused. ‘Not saying you should!’

‘Yeah exactly,’ Lee said, ‘You can trust a baby not to tell your secrets. People’s trustability is inversely correlated with how far you can throw them.’

‘I don’t know, babies aren’t that aerodynamic. You’d have to swaddle it to get it to go any decent distance.’ Several shocked faces looked at Hermione as she made this pronouncement. Only Ron, Harry and Ginny didn’t seem surprised by this side of her.

‘Sure, you swaddle them and then you could get a bit of a spin.’ Ron added, sagely. ‘Like in that muggle sport your dad likes.’

‘Rugby.’

Lee laughed. ‘Now I’m just imagining a Rugby tri-conversion kick but with a baby. Or maybe a good quaffle?’

‘You’re all monsters and I have no idea why I’m friends with you.’ Angelina called from the armchair she’d claimed.

‘Pfft, as if you’re above this conversation.’ Lee scoffed.

‘I’m not saying I am! Just that you’re all monsters for thinking a baby could ever function as a stand in quaffle, they’re completely the wrong weight.’

George sighed happily as he sat back and listened to this, somewhat bizarre, conversation flow amongst his friends. Their laughter bounced off the walls of the flat, exactly how he and Fred and imagined it would. Sure, the people were different, but he felt a small part of him heal as his, _their_ , dreams and plans came true.


	9. Bad Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quidditch metaphors of many varieties.

Trials of former death eaters had been going on for almost 2 years now, things took a lot longer now everyone was being given a fair trial – or even a trial at all. But every victory still felt fresh, bringing a wave of relief and security to the whole community. For the most part George could avoid active involvement in the cases, he hadn’t been at the front of the resistance until helping to set up Potterwatch, and even then they’d not exactly been eye-witnesses to the crimes.

The ongoing testimonies were weighing on the others though. Ginny especially seemed to find it uncomfortable to talk in front of the Wizengamot. George assumed part of it was simply that, after her first year, she’d learned to manage those emotions without talking about them. He felt quite guilty he’d never given her that space to talk. But suddenly she was expected to share details of personal pain, often repeatedly, for days, months, on end. It was draining for her, and he wanted to help. It was draining for Ron too, but George found he was easier to give a pick-me-up to.

‘It’s because I only spent a few months with a soul piece, Ginny spent a whole year with one.’ Ron explained during their post-trial relaxation session.

‘It’s still so strange to me, that both of you were exposed to something so evil, so malevolent.’ George said. ‘And I didn’t even know, bit of a shit big brother I am!’

‘Oh please, I’m more scarred from that spider incident than I was by Old Mouldy.’

‘I hope you know that doesn’t actually make me feel like a better brother.’

Ron just shrugged at him and turned back to massive pile of fudge they’d stored up to gorge on.

‘‘Sides’ Ron added, with his mouth obscenely full. ‘You’re only shit like all siblings are shit, I wouldn’t swap you.’

On reflection, George decided that was a compliment.

‘So, what do we do about Ginny?’ He asked, more to himself than to Ron. Ron answered anyway.

‘Let Harry keep her happy?’

‘That’s our sister.’

‘Oh please, you’ll tease all of us about sex but not Ginny? She can definitely take the teasing more than Percy or Bill. Or Charlie.' Ron insisted.

‘You can’t tease Charlie about sex. He’s not into that, as you well know.’

‘There’s a whole range of activities between sex and not sex, and we know Charlie does some of those.’

‘Point taken. So other than mocking Ginny for shacking up with your best mate, any useful tips?’

Ron rolled his eyes at him.

‘You’ve always had a bond with Ginny, you know that, we all know that.' Ron shrugged. 'I think our older brothers are a bit jealous of it.’ He added, after a short pause.

‘You have one too, so do they.’

‘Yeah, yeah, she loves us all. But she _gets_ us, me and you. And Fred, she got Fred. So I don’t think you really need my advice, you could just talk to her and it’d probably work out. If you’re really stuck as Angelina, since she is apparently your oracle for all things ‘feelings’.’

‘I’ve already asked her…’

Ron snorted and choked slightly.

‘Of course you have.’

‘As if you haven’t talked to Hermione about it!’

‘Talked to Hermione about it? Are you mad? She’s been talking at me about it since the trials started, apparently her family have some sort of traditional family council thingy when they need to ‘air their feelings or concerns for the others’. I told her that Weasley’s are more ‘say something rude then give ‘em a hug’ types. She decided to get some books on appropriate communication styles.’

‘Hasn’t she regularly given you a thump and then a bit later given you a hug and made up?’

‘I didn’t say the books were only for me.’

‘Angelina said to just go for it.’

‘Ha! My answer was on par with Angelina’s, I’m getting good at this.’

George rolled his eyes and stuffed some fudge into his mouth. He wasn’t going to actually admit it to Ron, but he really was rather good at this. A bit more… blunt, than the way Angelina phrased things, but he did seem to have a knack for understanding and getting to the heart of interpersonal issues. What a sap.

***

‘Hullo Ginny, you’re looking… healthy.’

‘I’m literally dripping with sweat, George. Can I help you?’

‘How long are you going to keep playing for?’

‘How long is a piece of gillyweed?’

‘Fancy dodging some bludgers?’

‘I bet you say that to all the girls. Sure, it’ll be good practice.’

‘I only really say it to Angelina these days, funnily enough that’s her reply too.’

‘You’re disgusting.’

‘You started it. Besides, a bludger is bigger than a snitch.’

‘Needs less dexterity though.’

‘Easier to break.’

‘Can they break?’

‘Lee knows a guy who knows a guy who broke his snitch.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Don’t go too hard on your favourite broom, that’s all I’m saying.’

‘Twat.’

‘What? No Gin, we’re talking about penises.’

Ginny laughed and rolled her eyes at him before reaching into the broom shed and handing him one of the new brooms she’d bought as soon as she’d started earning money from the Harpies reserve team. He suspected living with Harry Potter, who had more gold than his family had spent since his great-grandparents were alive, had also helped her save the money to get brooms. He wasn’t complaining, but sometimes he felt it was a little extravagant. That was totally why it upset him, not the fact she bought seven without thinking about it.

He smacked a bludger directly at his baby sister’s face. ‘So, the trials still as violating as ever?’

She rolled out of the way to dodge. ‘Pretty much, and we’ve not even gotten to some of the worst offenders yet.’

The bludger sped back towards him and he readied his bat. ‘How are you doing with it?’

Ginny tried to dodge past his defence whilst keeping an eye out for the returning ball. ‘It’s fine.’

A swing and a miss, the bludger sped just under his arm rather than making contact with the bat. Ginny scored in the makeshift goals.

The bludger returned and George focused, managing to send it careening towards Ginny’s broom. ‘Fine as in Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional.’

Ginny reared upwards, only just skirting a direct hit. ‘No, fine as in fine. Everyone seems to be treating me so delicately, I’m not going to break George.’

The bludger returned quickly and he managed to smash it with all his strength, it flew completely wide of Ginny. ‘Yeah, I am so worried about you breaking, that’s why I’m whacking a large and dangerous object at you repeatedly.’

She looked at him coolly. ‘You sent it the wrong way.’

The bludger swung round and zoomed back towards George, which meant it flew directly into Ginny’s side. She gasped, rolled, and slowly lowered to the ground.

‘You bastard! That really hurt!’

‘I thought you weren’t delicate Ginny. You don’t need people to be nice to you or worry, you’re super independent.’

‘Well it’s not my fault I’ve had to be, with all the shit that has happened to us, all the nights of going to bed not feeling full when we were little, the events of my first year, death and destruction just following, actual torture in Hogwarts classrooms. ‘Hogwarts is safe’ they always say. It’s never been safe for me. I’ve got to be strong. I’ve _got to_. Because if I fall apart, I’ll never be able to be put back together again. I can’t do that, to Harry, to mum and dad, to you, to the others. I cannot let that happen.’

George could see this outburst had taken its toll on her. The tears in her eyes had nothing to do with the bludger, he knew she could handle physical pain. All of wizarding Britain knew she could handle physical pain, since they’d lost the argument about letting the press into the trials.

‘You think desperately holding yourself together is any better for our stress levels? It’s not weak to rely on others, Gin-tins.’

‘Yeah, we were taught that. Then I relied on a diary that literally tried to damage my soul. Also, I couldn’t say twins alright, I was little.’

‘You were cute.’

Ginny glared at him.

‘See, you’re still cute. Adorable little Gin-Tin.’

‘You, George Fabian Weasley, are standing on very, very thin ice.’

‘Aren’t I always? Anyway, honestly, I think a lot of people are kind of waiting for you to fall apart, if you keep holding it together eventually it’ll all burst out like a horrifying firework of feelings. Relax a little, you don’t have to be perfect and together all the time.’

‘I can’t let mum and dad know how hurt I am George, how damaged, it’ll kill them.’

‘They lost a child Gin, I think a broken but living one isn’t the worst thing they’ve ever faced. I assume Hazza knows about all of this?’

‘Don’t call him that. Yes, he does, he had a bit of Voldemort stuck in him too.’

‘Ah, deep personal bonding. Gross. What does he say about it?’

She kicked the dirt by her foot. ‘That I should let it out a bit more and talk about it instead of letting it build up inside me.’

‘Well there you go then, your two most trusted male figures,’ she snorted but he continued, unabashed. ‘Both saying the same thing.’

‘Oh well that’s great, I’ll let down all my walls now and be fine with it and rely on others and all of that shit now that you and Harry have said it would be good. I’m glad that was easy.’

‘Alright, snarky Ginny. I never said it would be easy or painless. But something can be good for you and still painful. But Percy keeps swearing by the Healers he sees at St Mungo’s about feelings and shit. Apparently, it’s quite useful.’

‘I don’t see you going.’

‘I’ve thought about it. I still might, when various big, scary life events happen that I want Fred there for and he isn’t around. But I wasn’t tortured, or have my soul attacked.’

Ginny sighed.

‘I’ll think about it. You’ve been such a dick in this conversation.’

‘Yeah, I wanted to approach it nicely and calmly and all that. But the advice I got was to treat you how I usually do because we get each other. So you get dick-ish me.’

‘You are a dick, but I wouldn’t change you for anything.’

On reflection, George decided to take that as a compliment.


	10. Beauty in Your Brokenness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts (and Victoire’s first birthday) mixes the bittersweet nature of life. George spends time with his family and friends and makes an important commitment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late and it's short, but it's here.

For the first time in what felt like a long time the Burrow was its loud and vibrant self. Adults came in and out, George could hear his siblings calling out to each other across the house. Teddy zoomed around the garden under the watchful eye of Arthur, the two-year-old seemed to find great joy in the most mundane activities and it was more endearing than George cared to admit.

The plan, as far as George could establish that there was a plan, was that the adults would go to the memorial graves for Fred and the others, then they would return and have a small celebration for Victoire’s birthday. He felt it was probably pushing the range of emotions people should feel in one day, but he decided against protesting the idea.

‘Morning George.’ Harry greeted, stepping into the kitchen while still towelling his hair.

‘Do I want to ask why you showered here?’

‘A certain female Weasley shared her bodily fluid with me.’

‘On the basis that you didn’t just say ‘Ginny and I stayed the night’ I’m assuming Victoire threw up on you?’

‘Got it in one.’ Harry grimaced.

‘D’you know when we’re heading off?’

‘Probably fairly soon, your mum said once everyone was here we’d ‘get organised’.’

‘Be wary there, that’s also what she says about weddings…’

As he spoke his mother bustled into the kitchen with a rather harassed expression.

‘Oh Harry, finally! Right, those of us who are flooing – Fleur and Victoire, of course, and then myself and Percy – will head off now. I’ve spoken to Rosmerta about using the floo for little Tori-Belle' George caught Fleur wince at his mum's nickname for Victoire out of the corner of his eye '-but the rest of you can just apparate I think. There’s going to be a memorial talk from Kingsley, and I think the press will be there.’ At this she pursed her lips.

‘We’re used to the press, Mum.’ George said, having made peace with the fact all their family events would be publicised for probably the rest of their lives the way things were going. He suspected she would always grumble about them, even if she did hoard Witch Weekly _and_ Revelio!

Before long they’d all apparated into Hogsmead and were trudging along the path towards Hogwarts, where a graveyard with a magical sapling stood. Visible from the grounds of the castle and parts of Hogsmead. As the tree grew the names of those who had fallen would become part of its bark, a wizarding tradition for them to ‘keep living’.

George hated coming to the graveyard.

It wasn’t so much a sad place for him as one that just _bothered_ him. He avoided coming whenever he could, though he knew his mum visited about once a fortnight and that Percy, at least, was planning to come every year for the rest of his life to ‘give the headstone a good clean and keep things orderly’. George felt Percy had rather missed the personality of Fred in that idea, but he wasn’t very connected to the grave and it soothed Percy, so why not.

The families of those who died gathered with the press were a set distance away, George suspected there were wards keeping them back. Kingsley took to the plinth in front of the tree and began to talk about how it was tragic but together they’d build a new society in their honour. George zoned out fairly early on into this because it wasn’t like he didn’t hear the same things said at every commemoration event, and there had been so many already. He didn’t want people to forget, he’d never want that, but at the same time he did wonder why this group of people needed to remember, they were all _there_. It was the kids up at the school, their younger siblings, Victoire. They’d need to have these. Did he? Probably not.

‘Shall we go and lay our wreath on the grave then?’ his dad asked the family, jolting George out of his thoughts. The ceremony must have ended. He hoped he’d looked attentive so the press wouldn’t blast him tomorrow.

The Weasley group shuffled towards Fred’s grave. They’d lay a wreath. Then they’d talk to the other families. Harry, especially, would go to every plaque. Not everybody was here, some were buried where muggle relatives could visit, others were simply never found, at least not in full.

‘This year,’ Ginny whispered conspiratorially to him as they walked. ‘I’m thinking of transfiguring something on the wreath to something rude. Not so bad that it’ll ruin the whole effect, but enough that we’ll know.’

‘What were you thinking.’

‘I mean the classic would be a dick right, but it feels a bit too standard. So I was considering a small canary somewhere.’

‘I like that. Next year we can put a toilet seat.’

‘Solid plan. I think you’re thinking.’ And then she walked a little fast to catch up with Bill, in case their mother used her 6th sense for when her children were cooking up schemes.

They began to crowd around Fred’s grave and George hung back. As always, not enough that the press would necessarily notice – many of them were only interested in them as a group or specifically in the Chosen-Threesome-Who-Camped - so they tended not to pick up that it was strange for George not to be close.

The fact Fred’s body was there, underground. Probably rotting now. It made George feel sick. It's not like Fred was _here_ it was just a place that where people always said he was, and that always emphasised the fact that - to George at least - the graveyard was somewhere so distinctly lacking in any of Fred's energy.

It always took longer than he wanted it to, but finally they were heading back to the Burrow. His mum was crying, as was expected. Percy was too, but it was a real testament to how seeking help had benefited him that he was crying with a small bottle of pumpkin juice in hand. A year ago George would have been sceptical that it was _just_ pumpkin juice, but firstly he felt that his brother really had made a fundamental change in himself to stay away from alcohol, and secondly he knew Ginny had taken a sip, just to be sure.

***

The emotional contrast from the memorial site to the Burrow birthday party was enough to give anyone whiplash. George’s mum was still crying, although she was smiling as well now. Percy’s new girlfriend stood solidly by his side; she didn’t seem overly talkative, but he’d spotted her occasionally making comments to Percy that made him smile. George assumed she was discussing things like the schedule for the day or a particularly well written memo, things Percy likes.

‘Afternoon stranger.’ He greeted Angelina, offering her a butterbeer fresh from the cooling cupboard.

‘You saw me this morning George.’

‘Yes, and it’s been several hours since then. Who knows how much we might have changed as people in that time?’

‘I’m into Gobstones now. And I’ve decided that instead of the Smoking Salamanders gig next month I’m going to see the Broom Babes.’

‘I’m sorry, both of those are deal breakers.’

‘We don’t have a deal to break.’

‘Ok, will you go out with me?’ George asked very nonchalantly, he thought. Apparently his nerves hadn’t got that memo though, he felt as though a couple of hundred butterflies had been set loose in his stomach.

‘Sure.’ He might have been projecting, but he felt sure from the way her posture changed that Angelina was also feeling the effects of some butterflies.

‘Great. I’m breaking up with you because I can’t be with someone who listens to Broom Babes.’

‘I think that’s very snobbish of you, George. I can like my own things, I’m an independent woman.’

‘You make a solid argument. I guess we can still go out then.’ His heart thumped wildly against his ribcage. 

‘Yeah, let’s go out, I guess you’re alright.’ She sounded like her usual self, but the look she gave him was almost shy. It was very endearing, but George felt it was time to get back onto familiar ground.

‘Yeah, you’ll do.’

They grinned at each other, just as Charlie strolled into the kitchen.

‘What are you two beaming about?’

‘AJ and I are officially together.’

‘… since when?’

‘About… 30 second ago.’

‘Yeah, he’s a bit emotionally unavailable so far.’ Angelina said in mock seriousness.

‘She’s a bit demanding, but we’re making it work.’ George shrugged.

Charlie looked between the two of them, as if trying to work out if they were pranking him. Eventually he just shook his head. 

‘You deserve each other.’ He grabbed a drink from the table and left.

‘Are we going to have to talk about this properly?’ George asked once it was just them again.

‘We probably should. But also. that seems very sensible of us.’

‘Woah. Careful with the ‘s’ word there.’

‘Exactly.’

‘I think realistically this has been a long time coming.’ He added. He did want to talk about it. Only a little bit.

‘Yes, which is unlike you.’

‘Ouch. That honeymoon phase ended quickly.’

She gave him a gentle punch on the arms. ‘Honeymoons are for sex. We’ve been in that phase for a while. It’s nice to be able to say we’re not just friends with benefits anymore.’

‘I should warn you I’ve got a lot of emotional baggage. I don’t know if you’d have noticed that, but as my girlfriend you’ll be privy to my darkest and most vulnerable thoughts.’ It had started as a joke. He meant it as a joke. But it came out far more serious than he’d intended.

‘‘Pfft, I’ve been dealing with your emotional baggage since about our third year. It’s mine you’re going to have to get used to.’ She gave him a warm and reassuring smile. ‘Besides, I wasn’t kidding, I do really quite like you. I don’t mind sharing the emotional load with you.’

‘We’ll face the world together then.’ He grinned. ‘I wasn’t kidding either, you’ll do.’

She rolled her eyes at him and pulled him for a quick, but soft, peck on the lips.

She also pressed her still cold butterbeer bottle right into the base of his neck. So this was what love felt like, he thought, he’d expected it to have slightly less condensation. 


	11. We Belong Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George comes to terms with an identity shift and tries to be a good older bother... I mean brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, yeah, it's been a hot minute. Turns out writing a thesis at the same time as writing a multi-chapter fic wasn't my smartest move.

For most of his life, George had really been ‘and George’. There’d always been a name that came for his. It wasn’t that he’d always loved that about himself; he and Fred had occasionally discussed that they _were_ different people and coming as a matching pair was frustrating, even if they played into it.

Then that had disappeared. Fred was gone. ‘And George’ was gone. He was suddenly ‘Just George'. It stung as an aspect of grief he’d not been prepared for. One which most of his support network didn’t understand, even in their grief his friend’s and siblings' very identities hadn’t shifted.

With his relationship with Angelina now ‘official’, he’d gained that identity back, or, so he'd thought.

‘Are Angelina and George coming?’

‘Where are AJ and George?’

‘Make space for Angelina and George at the table!’

It didn’t bring the relief he’d hoped. Instead there was just a new sense of wrongness. ‘And George’ existed only with Fred. This new version felt more like finding an older favourite jacket only to find it no longer fit quite right.

‘It’s not that I don’t enjoy being a couple, it just feels weird.’ He explained to Angelina one evening.

‘I get that. Your name always came with another, this is a big change.’

‘I don’t want you to think I don’t want to be with you because I find it strange.’

‘Don’t be stupid George, I’m not that insecure.’

They’d loved on, and noticed she’d started making sure things from both of them were signed as ‘George and Angelina’. He always knew she was fantastic.

‘Y’know, I think you’re just a pig-headed man who wanted the guy’s name first.’ She’d jokingly accused him one evening.

‘Yes. You got me. Down with witches… I’m so glad Hermione isn’t here right now, she’d skin me alive for even making the joke.’

‘She would not.’

He raised his eyebrows at her.

‘She wouldn’t! She’d complain about it afterwards though.’

‘I concede.’

***

A month or so later they gathered at the Burrow for a family meal, since Charlie was visiting from Romania. His mum beamed around the full table, a marquee up in the back garden now that the numbers were officially to high to all fit in the kitchen.

‘So let me get this straight… there’s Bill and Fleur, obviously…’ Charlie was trying to keep track of the family relationships, he heard about them in the occasional letter but George suspected he didn’t take much interest in human gossip that often.

‘Percy and Audrey. George and Angelina. Ron and Hermione. Harry and Ginny. Jeez you guys didn’t have to settle down quite this fast you know.’

‘Who says we’ve settled down?’ Ginny frowned. ‘That sounds a bit boring doesn’t it. ‘Settling down’. We’re just in relationships.’

‘I’d argue I’ve settled down.’ Bill added. Bouncing Victoire on his knee and wiggling his wedding ring at her.

‘Yes, but you’re old Bill.’

‘Ron!’ Percy gasped.

‘What? He is old. He’s the oldest and he’s got a kid. He’s old.’

‘It’s still rude to point out something like that!’

‘Oh it’s rude to say true things now is it?’

‘What you need is something catchy to keep all the couples fresh in your mind.’ Ginny continued, ignoring the heated conversation about age going on beside her.

‘Oh yeah, like what?’

‘Well you could smush the names together, like they do in Witch Weekly. Bill and Fleur could be Blur, also they moved pretty fast, so that’s an added pun for you.’

Bill chimed in again about how they’d dated for over a year before the engagement and there’d been a full year between the engagement and the wedding.

‘Being slower than mum and dad doesn’t mean it was slow, Bill. Anyway, Percy and Audrey…’

‘No. Thank you Ginny. We don’t go in for that sort of thing.’ Percy finally broke away from lecturing Ron about ‘statements of a personal nature’.

‘It’s true,’ Audrey nodded from his side. She was a quiet one, devastatingly funny when she wanted to be, but usually happy to sit and listen rather than join in. George supposed that was why they worked well as a couple, since Percy rarely shut up. ‘We’d rather not play into the tabloid phrases.’

‘Suit yourself.’ Ginny shrugged. ‘I figure I’d rather make it my own, you know? So, Georgelina, easy.’

‘Hold on a sec!’ Angelina butted in. ‘Why not Angeorge?’

Ginny scoffed. ‘Listen to yourself AJ. Angeorge is better than Angelina? Really?’

‘Alright then you and Harry are Hinny.’

‘Um, no, Harry and I are Garry. We’re reviving a dying name.’

Angelina hummed and tapped her chin. ‘Going by Witch Weekly, you’re Hinny.’

‘Wait, they’ve actually given us relationship names?’ Harry seemed startled by the prospect. He’d been discussing work and muggle music devices with Arthur at the top of the table, seemingly oblivious until this point.

‘Well not all of us, they don’t massively care unless it’s you, Ginny, Ron or Hermione. Small mercies, I suppose.’

‘Did you know about this?’ Harry turned to Ginny, but also gestured towards Ron and Hermione.

‘Of course we did Harry! Ron and I are ‘Romione’ which I can’t say I love, but I try not to care too much about what they say anyway.’

‘Romione?’ Ron seemed equally as confused. ‘Strange. Heron would have been shorter.’

‘Less catchy though.’

Charlie’s eyes seemed to have fully glassed over at this point. ‘Great. You’ve really helped Gin. Now I’ll remember everything.’

‘What would we be then?’ Arthur asked enthusiastically. The whole table groaned.

***  
‘Do you think you and AJ belong together?’ Ron asked him over an inventory ordering sheet.

‘Do you think you and Hermione belong together?’ George asked back.

‘Well, yes and no. I don’t know if we were made to be together or anything, that feels a bit ‘Divination’ y’know? But I think we’re good for each other and we work at it… I just don’t really know. I’ve been thinking about ‘belonging’ recently.’

‘You’re a strange one. Angie and I work well together, I don’t know what more you’re looking for here. There was one person I _was_ born with, and now I’m an odd sock. She matches me well enough to stop the feeling of uselessness, that seems like enough.’

Ron looked at him sceptically. ‘You can’t be saying you’re only with her because she makes you feel like a twin again.’

‘No. I. That’s not what I meant. It’s hard to put into words. Why are you thinking about belonging anyway?’

‘It just seems like something’s not quite right in my life, and I can’t work out what. Hermione says I should ‘work through different areas and assess’ so I thought I’d start with romantic stuff.’

‘We both know it’s your job.’

‘No we don’t.’ Ron’s reply was immediate and sharp. George simply looked at him across the boxes of merchandise.

‘Shut up. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at.’

‘You’re good at lots of things.’

Ron snorted. George wondered, not for the first time, if his being paired from birth meant they’d ignored the youngest brother a bit too much. He’d need to discuss it more with Angie later.

‘I don’t like it when people call us Angelina and George because it makes me feel uncomfortable to have someone else’s name before mine like it used to be with Fred.’ He’s not quite sure what drives him to blurt it out to Ron. Maybe he’s just selfish and wants to make it about him, maybe he’s trying to relate. He can’t tell.

Ron shrugged at him. ‘Makes sense. Sorry though.’

‘Oh. That’s all you’ve got to say?’

‘Err. Also I won’t do it again?’

‘I just thought it was a bit weird you know? AJ said it was normal but she like, likes me, so she might just be being nice.’

‘Don’t worry, I’d never be nice to you just because you’re you. I think it makes sense. But you were always George. You’re still you now. Nothing takes away from the core that is George.’

‘I don’t know if I think that’s true, I can’t even make a patronus anymore, and it’s probably changed. Doesn’t mean that my core has changed?’

‘I’ve got no clue mate, but I reckon if you change you’re still you, you’re just a changed you. Right?’

‘I know I said you’re good at things, but explaining things isn’t one of them.’

Ron snorted. ‘Fuck off.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Can you pass the box of Sparkle-Breathing dragon plushes? You could always quit and just work here you know.’

‘I’ll think on it.’


	12. Tom Paine's Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing hunt for Ron's career. Some Weasley family bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the chapter titles are after songs. Some more tangentially linked than others.  
> Tom Paine's Bones has some great lines that I feel resonate with this chapter, like:  
> 'They say I preach revolution, let me say in my defence: That all I did wherever I went was to talk a lot of common sense!'

‘I offered Ron a place at Wheezes yesterday.’ George admitted into the darkness where he knew Angelina was awake.

‘What did he say? I know you’ve been trying to get him out of being an Auror for ages, it does seem to eat at him.’

‘He said he’d think about it, but I’m not sure if he should come work with me.’

‘He’s been really helpful though…’

‘I think he’d be a great business partner and do his work well. The same way he does his work as an Auror well. Just because he’d be good at it doesn’t mean it’s what he should be doing. I just worry that moving from ‘A career with Harry’ to ‘A career with George’ isn’t actually going to help.’

‘You’re probably right.’ Angelina hummed in thought. ‘But if he stops being an Auror and helps you ‘whilst he thinks about things’ that gives him space to figure it out for himself doesn’t it?’

‘Harry thinks he should stop too.’

‘Has Harry told him that?’

‘No, those two communicate in ways that even ancient rune scholars would struggle with.’

***

Harry and Ron paid a visit during work hours for the third day running. The investigations on explosives were ongoing.

‘I swear I helped with this years ago.’

‘You helped with information gathering,’ Harry nodded. ‘Now we’re at the point were we’ll be able to act and get them for good.’

‘Public defecation defenders? Really? They’re this much of a threat?’

‘No, shockingly, that was a cover. These guys seem to be making lots of products – things to crack magical safes, a drug of some form, lots of things. We think they’re going the raw-ingredient route. Which is obviously risky.’

‘I’ve been suggestion we think more about warehouses and organising forces, but so far no dice.’ Ron added from the chair in the corner, the one he usually took when he helped with inventory checks.

‘I see what you mean,’ Harry nodded at Ron. ‘But this way we’ll get them faster.’

‘Faster doesn’t help if it’s not complete though, does it. Since when do we care more about speed than thoroughness?’

‘That’s what she said.’ George chimed in, sensing an argument brewing.

‘Old joke mate.’ Ron rolled his eyes. ‘You’ve got a box of Hiccough-Hinkpunk sweets down here, did you mean to have those out on the floor?’

‘Yes I did actually, since you’re here…’

Ron scowled at him, but picked up the box and trudged out the room anyway. Little brothers, they knew their place.

‘Thanks for diffusing that. We’ve been at logger heads on and off recently.’ Harry admitted once Ron was out of the room.

‘Have you considered taking his idea seriously?’ George asked, the scepticism clear in his voice.

‘Of course _I_ have, but we don’t get to make these decisions George, and if we want to keep moving up in the ranks so one day we can make the bigger changes. This is how it’s done.’

‘You’re Harry Potter. I’m sure you could do it now if you wanted.’

‘You know I don’t like doing that.’

‘I do.’ George conceded. ‘But can’t you communicate properly with Ron about that, he knows you could pull your weight for him if you wanted to. I swear to Merlin, you’re not both 14 any more, or even 17. You could actually have a conversation about this shit.’

‘Exactly, we’re older. He’s got much more power over these matters than he used to and he’s still waiting for me to step in. That’s not my fault.’

‘You’re being a stubborn dick Harry.’

‘Thanks for your help with the information finding and with leads on where people might source ingredients.’

‘Right. For more on that sort of thing AJ might be better help.’

‘Thanks. See you later.’

Harry left, taking a sullen Ron with him. George sighed. Just when he thought they were getting less dense they went and stuck with this stupid way of talking round each other. Idiots.

***

‘Hermione’s got this new project, she’s working on the Rights of Magical and Non-Magical Beings. It seems pretty intense but that’s how she roles I guess.’ Ron’s voice brimmed with pride and envy as he tried to explain the draft law to him over a pint. ‘She’s just so into it you know, and it’s really making a difference. I wish I could make that sort of a difference.’

‘You’re an Auror, you’ve definitely made some solid differences.’

‘Yes and no. Yes, we got a lot of Death Eaters to face justice, that’s great. But it would have happened without me, wouldn’t it. Just like Harry defeating Voldemort would have.’

‘I think Harry, and Hermione, and honestly most people who know the events, would argue that it wouldn’t have happened without you.’

Ron shrugged. ‘Being an Auror is Harry’s thing, I don’t think it’s necessarily mine.’

‘Finally! We’ve been trying to get you to see that for ages. What are you going to do instead?’

‘No idea. There aren’t really any ‘me’ things.’

George opened his mouth to refute it just as Harry, Ginny and Hermione arrived.

‘Evening!’ Ginny beamed at them. ‘What’s this about there being no ‘you’ things Ron?’

‘Nothing.’ Ron muttered and his ears went red.

‘Ron’s finally figured out that being an Auror isn’t actually his groove. Now we need to figure out what is.’ George announced to the group.

‘Traitor.’ Ron moaned. ‘I don’t need an intervention or anything.’

‘There are _loads_ of you things Ron!’ Hermione exclaimed. ‘We just need to find something monetizable. I’m sure there’s loads… maybe you could check out the magical CV section at the British Library? I’ll need to go there anyway tomorrow.’

‘Blimey Hermione, I do still currently have a job you know.’ Ron countered, but he seemed pleased by her enthusiasm.

‘You could work with broomsticks, you’ve got loads of opinions on those. Or see what the Chudley Canons have going.’ Ginny suggested as she sat down with her drink.

‘Bit close to your space though isn’t it. The point is to look for _me_ things. Quidditch is your thing these days. At least, working in is.’

‘I’m still only reserve.’

‘Great, so I’ll get reserve, just like you already have. And then you’ll get main team before me. And it’ll just keep going. No. Aurors is Harry’s – shut up mate, it is – law is Hermione’s, quidditch is yours, the shop is George’s. Feels like we’re running out of things.’ Ron’s face fell further and further as he outlined the ‘roles’ the others had.

‘Look.’ George said. ‘We’ll all think on it, we’ll all do some research. We all think you’ve got loads of great skills, and no offense but we’re smarter than you so we’re probably right.’

‘I don’t know if that helps George…’

‘Shut up and finish your drink Ginny, you’re a pint behind.’

***

They were next all together again at the monthly Weasley gathering, and things hadn’t really improved. Over the week and a bit since their conversation in the pub the other Weasley’s had been roped into the search for ‘Ron’s Thing’. A title Ron was less than pleased by – ‘it sounds like I’ve lost my cock!’ – but it stuck, so he’d have to cope.

The issue, George found, was that almost all of them seemed to suggest _their_ thing; Bill suggested curse breaking (‘The Auror training will make it easier!’), Percy suggested some middle management bureaucracy (no one had really expected him to suggest anything else), Charlie wrote to say they had a sanctuary cleaner spot open as the last person was still in the hospital for burns. Overall, none of them were very good at finding what Ron was very good at.

‘Chess!’ Hermione exclaimed.

‘You want me to be a professional wizarding chess player?’ Ron asked, his voice sceptic.

‘Well, muggle ones exist.’ Hermione now sounded unsure.

‘And they make enough to support themselves and contribute to the household?’

‘Honestly, I’ve no idea.’

‘Well, I’ll put it on the maybe pile then.’

The longer this went on the more Ron’s shoulders sagged. George hated it. He loved all his siblings, but he’d always wanted to be a good ‘big brother’ to Ron and Ginny. The spider incident flashed across his mind. Well, maybe not always. Other times he and Fred and mildly pushed Ron (figuratively!) under the knight bus also popped up. Ok, as of the last few years.

‘Maybe I’m just the shit Weasley. Have we considered that?’ Ron snapped at them all when their mum, kindly, had suggested he be a house-husband. ‘And we’re not even engaged yet mum!’

‘Why do you think being a house-husband would be bad thing? I do a lot of work young man!’

‘What do you mean ‘yet’?’ Hermione seemed slightly shocked. Surely, they’d discussed it. ‘That makes it sound like you’re moving the timeline forward.’ That explained it. George caught Angelina’s eye and they both had to look away before the laughter could spill over.

‘You do such a good job mum, it’s _your_ thing. The idea is to do something I won’t constantly be comparing myself over. I’d never live up to your house-keeping abilities.’ George marvelled at Ron’s diplomacy, as it completely threw their mum off and mollified her. It was impressive.

‘As for disrupting the plan, of course I’m going to disrupt the plan Hermione. That’s part of the reason you like me. Besides, proposals are less fun when you know they’re coming, I aim to keep you on your toes.’ There was something in the way Ron said that which made George cringe, he decided not to dwell on it more. Though again, George was struck with the fact Ron clearly knew the plan and was actively working around it. Interesting.

‘But the point still stands, I’m the shit Weasley. The sorting hat didn’t even want to put me in Gryffindor!’

‘Oh. Same.’ George said. ‘I think Fred asked to be in Gryffindor and I asked to be in the same House as Fred. It wanted me to be a Hufflepuff.’

‘Hufflepuff was mine.’ Ron nodded, his face brightening at the thought that it wasn’t just him.

‘Slytherin’ Ginny and Harry said at the same time then glanced at each other in shock.

‘It made the whole Voldemort thing…’ Ginny start.

‘So much harder.’ Harry nodded along.

‘Great, more trauma for you to bond over!’ Angelina laughed. ‘The Sorting Hat really considered Ravenclaw for me.'

‘But it can’t have _really_ wanted to put you in those Houses,’ their mum frowned. ‘Because it put you in Gryffindor. It just put me in Gryffindor, all those years ago. If it had wanted to put you in another House it would have, right dear? It was just a passing thought? I remember Bill writing home to say the Hat had been almost certain on Gryffindor for him.’

She turned to their father. ‘Well, actually Molly dear, it wanted me to be a Hufflepuff or a Gryffindor, we had a good chat about it. Maybe since we we're both Gryffindors and it was so certain for Bill we just all got the idea in our heads?’

‘It wanted me to be a Slytherin.’ Percy added. A vision of a world where Percy had been a Slytherin, and around the environment of that House during their time at school. The table was quiet for a little while.

‘I bet the hat considers loads of things.’ Hermione said, eventually. ‘I was up there for almost five minutes as the hat and I discussed the merits of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.’

‘I wonder if Bill and Charlie had other House options?’ Percy mused. ‘I feel like they probably did. Do you know Fred’s?’

‘Ravenclaw I think.’ George replied. ‘But I… I don’t really remember. It feels like such a long time ago and we didn’t discuss it often.’ A wave of anxiety rolled over him; what if he forgot all those little facts about Fred, the things that had made him real and tangible and alive?

Angelina laid her warm hand over his, bringing him back into the room with the others. She smiled at him, she must have known where he was slipping off to. He offered a small smile back.

‘So… I’m not the only one who isn’t a ‘pure’ Gryffindor?’ Ron asked tentatively.

‘By the sounds of it only Mum and Bill were ‘pure’ Gryffindors. Who’d have thought, Nerves of Steel Molly Weasley!’ George declared, making his mother blush. ‘We should probably have talked about this more openly in the past, since it’s apparently bothered all of us for so long.’

‘Ha ha.’ Ginny sing-songed. ‘George wants to talk about his feeeelings.’

The fact his mother was a pure Gryffindor became very clear in the following few minutes after he’d sworn at Ginny in response.

‘The point is,’ their dad said to Ron, laying a hand on his shoulder as he spoke. ‘That you were chosen to be a Gryffindor no matter how it happened, and you lived up to those expectations splendidly. If you hadn’t it wouldn’t have mattered, you’re our boy. I know we have a few of those here, although, one fewer than we should these days, but all of you are your own people. And I’m proud of you. Not just for what you did in the War, although I am proud of that too, but there’s something in you, Ron, that is important and yours. We don’t know what it is, but trust us, it’s there.’

It was just like Dad to not speak much and then suddenly say exactly what they needed to hear. Ron left the table soon afterwards and returned back a little red around the eyes. None of them mentioned it.


	13. Urgent, Important, Please Read

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Auror work can be dangerous and George tries not to panic.

After the disgustingly heart-warming family bonding discussions, every returned to helping Ron with his work with new vigour, and even Ron seemed happier – even though discovering a career that was ‘his’ remained elusive.  


They settled into a work routine, Ron talked about doing one big mission, maybe two, before calling it quits on the Auror job. He was happy to help George out in the shop if there was a gap between him leaving the Aurors and finding his own thing. George found he hoped a little for that gap, not so much because he needed the help – though Ron’s opinions were often appreciated – but more for the company. He and Fred and always been a team, each other’s shadows. There was rarely a time when one of them was more than a few metres away, even when they snuck into the prefects bathrooms or showered after quidditch, they always knew where the other was, even if they weren’t together.  


That was another steep learning curve, for the first time in his life George really had to learn what it was like to be alone. Initially he hated it. Although he hated being around others too, it just reminded him that it wouldn’t last. Really all he’d wanted to do was sleep, in those early weeks and months. Fred had never been around when he slept, or at least, he’d not been conscious of it. And there were moments, in waking and dropping off, when he could pretend Fred really was only a few feet away, just in another room or behind the bed curtains.  


As always, he’d shared these thoughts with Angelina, in snippets as they listened to the wireless, or in the quiet of their bedroom when he felt protected by the darkness.  


‘I can’t say I know how it feels,’ she’d said gently, stroking his back as she cuddled into his side – ‘jetpacking’ she’d called it, he felt she just didn’t want to accept she liked being a big spoon. ‘But I think people go through similar things; maybe removing an address from their diaries, or muggles deleting numbers from their phones. There’s a moment when everyone really realises that they’re never going to be ‘just with’ the other person again. And that’s even harder for you because of how close you were. I’m sorry.’  


‘You don’t need to be sorry, it’s not your fault.’  


‘Well I am anyway, I can feel sorry that you’re in pain without feeling I did something to you. Empathy isn’t guilt.’  


‘Deep.’  


‘I am. Some call me profound.’  


‘Strange nickname for Angelina.’  


She muffled her laughter, pushing her face into his shoulder bones and peppering it with small kisses.  


‘The important things are that you know it’s ok to feel however you feel, and you keep talking about it – to me, to someone else, it’s ok. Just don’t bottle it up and let it fester, that won’t help anyone.’  


‘Duly noted, don’t want to pull a Harry.’  


‘Exactly, Ginny would be mad too.’  


***  


It was a normal day, boring even. An idle Tuesday afternoon. Suddenly his dad’s Patronus appeared in the shop.  


_Harry and Ron at St Mungo’s. Issue on a raid. Come asap. Send Patronus confirming.  
_

His heart began beating at over one hundred beats a minute, he could feel the blood bounding through his ears making him dizzy. He didn’t have time to be dizzy. He needed to go. Needed to help. Needed to send a Patronus he couldn’t send because he can’t cast Patronuses any more, that part of him was gone. Broken forever. What good is one magpie? He had no idea how long he’d been standing there, the panic gripping him.  


‘George?’ Angelina’s voice called through the shop. ‘George? George! Are you ok? You’re white as a ghost! There’s no one here, do you want me to close up shop?’  


‘St Mungo’s. I need to. St Mungo’s. Ron. Harry.’  


Angelina, to his infinite amazement and gratitude, seemed to understand almost perfectly what was going on.  


‘Right, sit down.’ She ordered. He sat, almost instinctually, as if her words were the only force that could move him. ‘I’m going to lock up the shop, it’s dead today anyway – probably because of that big sale event at Clarrens and Baglock – you take some deep breaths. Also I’ll send a quick note to your parents.’  


She paused, clearly formulating and envisioning the words her Raven would say once it appeared in St Mungo’s and found his parents. After a few moments she spun and shot the Patronus out towards the doors of the shop.  


‘I’ll be right back.’  


George sat, listening to her move through the store with ease. Packing up various displays that had more expensive ingredients, making sure the lighting around the shop was sorted for the evening. She didn’t even work with him, she just fit so well into his life, he was sure he’d never even shown here were some things were – but her educated guesses were always pretty good.  


‘Ok, I’m done. I’ve got the floo powder.’ She held out her hand towards him. He reached up, she gripped him tightly, anchoring him to this reality where even if things went wrong Angelina would help him through it. She wasn’t the only person he could rely on, but she was solid and constant in a way George felt he’d never really appreciated until now. She guided them to the floo and they were off spinning in minutes.  


‘George! Angelina! Oh thank goodness, thank you for the Patronus, I’m so glad you two were together – I was sure George must have seen Arthur’s Patronus and been packing up the shop while you replied. Such a good pair!’ Neither of them refuted his mum’s version of events.  


‘What’s going on? What happened?’ he asked, cutting off her anxious rambling about teamwork in relationships.  


‘They were in a raid on the place the department thought the chemicals were, it sounds like the group using them weren’t taking proper safety precautions… and, well…’ She took a deep breath and steadied herself.  


‘They were in the room?’ He asked, softly, trying to take some of burden off her to say the words.  


‘Yes. Both. Harry a little closer, but both very much there.’  


‘Ok.’ Said Angelina, nodding. Again, she radiated a form of assurance. It might be bad, but together they could make it less awful, they could band together. His mum seemed to respond to this as well. ‘Practical things, Molly. They’re both stable?’  


‘Yes, though Harry is asleep and Ron is in treatment.’  


‘Ok, well it sounds like they’ll both be here for a while. Do you want to get their things, or should I?’  


‘I’ll go.’ His mum nodded, it appeared having a mission, a job to do, had revitalised her out of some of the panic. The opposite of him, he needed to have all things taken away, his mum needed to be useful. He wished he could be useful too.  


‘Great, you do that. Has anyone contacted Ginny?’  


‘Yes, but we couldn’t get a full message through…’  


‘I’ll go and get her.’ His voice rang out before he’d really considered it. Both women looked at him.  


‘Oh Georgie you’re so wonderful, yes, please, go and get Ginny. She’ll be panicking I’m sure of it and you’ll help her.’ His mother beamed at him in appreciation he wasn’t really sure he deserved. Angelina simply nodded, kissed his cheek, and then returned to going through the tasks with his mum. If he tuned out the context and the actual words, it was almost like she was giving Quidditch instructions.  


‘First, go and see Ron and your father.’ His mum instructed over he shoulder. Well, he wasn’t going to disobey a direct order.  


Getting to the room was easy enough; Magical Burns and Dismemberment was certainly a ward name that stuck in your mind. It was busy though, clearly other people had been caught in the blast. He spotted an open door and a shock of red hair, at least his family were easy to find.  


Ron sat on the bed, bandaged and covered in some sort of goop.  


‘You look like a troll sneezed on you.’ George said, looking him up and down.  


‘There we go, see Dad, I told you worse things could have happened.’ Their father chuckled good naturedly. That was a good sign, clearly Ron was ok.  


‘Harry?’ George queried. The laughter stopped.  


‘He’s alright.’ Ron answered. ‘He was closer to the main area. His burns were much deeper. They’re treating him now, they’re not allowing people in. It was a bit scary when we first got here but the longer it goes the more likely it seems he’ll be alright – I know, counter intuitive – but they told us when they started that no news is good news. If he was going to go, he’d go fast, within 3 minutes they said. Since it’s been about 20 minutes things are looking better.’  


'That’s pretty terrifying.’  


‘Yup. But we’re through it. Soon it’ll just be another thing to joke about.’ Ron tried to shrug and winced as he moved his damaged shoulder. ‘Bit weird, that, innit? Ever considered we’re not very well adjusted?’  


‘Oi!’ Came his dad’s indignant response.  


‘Yeah,’ George smiled. ‘I blame the parents.’  


Their dad said responded with some swear words they were sure he’d never have uttered if their mother had been in the room.  


***  


He stood in the travel office.  


They just asked Ginny home as a precaution, they’ll be ok.  


Even though he’d seen Ron and gotten the update on Harry, being away from them brought all the panicked feelings back. Ginny finally appeared.  


‘Oh shit. It’s definitely bad if someone came to pick me up.’ She said when she saw him.  


‘Thanks Gin, I could have just been being an amazing older brother you know.’ Ah, he should have thought about this, of course she’d assume the worst if someone came to get her. If he hadn’t been so desperate to appear useful…  


But her presence soothed him a little. They fell into easy banter as he ushered her towards the floo terminals. He gave her the instructions on where to go, accidentally letting slip that Ron had also been hurt. Damn it, he was meant to be helping. She grabbed some Floo powder and headed off.  


‘You must be another Weasley!’ the Floo attendant turned to him, her eyes wide. ‘Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!’ She put the pot down so she could clasp his hand with hers and shake it. She must have recognised Ginny. Damn it all.  


‘Thank you so much for your role in the war. And you whole family. You lost a brother, didn’t you? That must have been hard. What a noble sacrifice though, you must be proud.’  


‘I… Yes… Very. I’m terribly sorry, lovely to meet you. Glad you’re safe. I’m actually on an important mission for Mr Potter right now, and I have to go.’  


‘Oh of course, of course. Thank you again. Sorry for your loss.’  


‘Thanks. Bye.’ He grabbed the floo powder and made his escape. People liked to bring up that Fred had died, he could never understand why. As though the fact he died in the war somehow gave them a free pass to talk about it casually in a way no one would in any other setting. ‘Oh hello, yes your dad died of Dragon Pox didn’t he? So sad.’ Everyone would think you were a knob. But no, this public tragedy could be brought up at random, because fuck the family members who were constantly reminded.  


When he finally arrived back at St Mungo’s, it felt like a long time but he was only a few minutes after Ginny, Hermione had arrived and he decided to give them a jovial rendition of his hold up rather than share his more bitter ruminations. There was good news about Harry, they’d be able to see him soon. He’d make it, though he was a little singed.  


Ron would need to stay in for a few days, Harry a few weeks. Promising to return to see Ron – and Harry, if he was awake – tomorrow, George left.  


Angelina was already home when he got there. She opened her arms to him as soon as he stepped through the door and he went straight into them. Collapsing into her embrace. He was suddenly exhausted, a feeling he remembered well from the early days after the battle.  


Angelina stroked his hair and swayed slightly. Letting him rest in her arms for a little while longer.  


‘I ordered us take out, because I don’t think we’re up for much cooking tonight.’  


‘You’re an angel.’  


'Yes, everyone calls me an angel. It’s almost as though it’s my name.’ She said lightly, it wasn’t their usual banter, but he could still hear the amusement in her voice.  


‘I’m going to go back tomorrow.’  


‘Naturally. Do you want me to come?’  


‘I always like things more when you’re there, but I don’t think I need you, especially if it would mean skipping work.’  


She pressed a kiss to his temple as they heard the detection spell go off for their food arriving. ‘You go chat with your brothers, I’ll hold down the fort here. I don’t have my work, but I can run the shop while you’re away.’  


‘Seriously, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.’  


‘If you can’t work out what it was maybe this is early karma and you’ll have to do good deeds for me in the future.’ She winked at him.  


Ok, maybe not completely angelic.


	14. Chaos From the Top Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron gets his life in order, George realises that he's made a real friend.

George got the impression that the staff at St Mungo’s were getting a bit annoyed by the number of visitors who came to see Ron and Harry. The family stuck to visiting hours, for the most part, although part of him wondered if it counted as ‘sticking to visiting hours’ if Ginny refused to leave, but only tried to use the visitor facilities between 10am and 4pm.

On the third day a rather harried Healer came in to tell them off for so many people being in Ron’s room, only to come face to face with the Minister for Magic having a fairly intense chess match with Ron.

‘I… Minister Shacklebolt. It’s past visiting hours.’

‘You are quite right Healer Damarin. My apologies.’ Kingsley responded in his deep, soothing voice. ‘Hermione could you note down these positions so Ron and I can return to the match tomorrow? Do you want me to note down my next move Ron?’

Ron waved him off. ‘I’ll beat you regardless Kingsley.’

George noted with amusement that the Healer seemed slightly alarmed by Ron’s response. But Kingsley just laughed.

‘You probably will. I’ll aim to be back at about 1 tomorrow – if that’s alright Healer?’

She nodded and moved to let him through the door.

‘Poor woman,’ Ron said after they’d left. ‘Kingsley’s a cool bloke, but he’s a bit intimidating if you don’t know him.’

‘Maybe they should just stop trying to get us to follow visiting hours?’ George suggested.

‘I don’t know why they haven’t yet, although I’m only supposed to be in until next Tuesday. Harry’s going to be here for at least another week or so, I reckon they’ll give up when they realise that he alone gets about the same amount of visitors.’

True to his word, Kingsley returned the next day to finish his chess match with Ron. George arrived just as Ron forced Kingsley to concede.

‘I don’t know why I thought I had a chance.’

‘I think you probably did when you made the unexpected move with your bishop, although he was a whiney bugger about it.’

‘He was indeed. I seem to be surrounded by those these days. I might have to leave quite soon as our Muggle Prime Minister Liaison Officer has quit. It’s the 4th one in 10 months.’ Kingsley seemed tired as he spoke.

‘What’s going wrong?’ George asked, he’d read about the resignations in the Prophet, but he’d not given it much thought.

‘We just can’t seem to find people who are the right fit. It’s usually Muggle borns who apply for the job, although not exclusively. We just can’t seem to get the right person, or group of people, applying.’

‘Well it’s never going to work with a Muggle born is it?’ Ron gestured slightly with his un-slinged arm. ‘They’re usually either fully invested in Muggle politics like Hermione is, or they’re trying to distance themselves from it as far as possible.’

‘That’s… a good point actually.’ Hermione chimed in.

‘No need to sound so surprised.’

‘It is a good point.’ Kingsley said, interrupting whatever argument-mixed-with-foreplay was about to occur between Ron and Hermione. ‘And one none of my advisors on this have ever pointed out. What do you suggest then? There are some pure blood families that wouldn’t be invested at all, but they’re the least likely to take the job.’

‘You’re best off with a magic-raised person, I reckon.’ Ron said thoughtfully. ‘Doesn’t really matter about their lineage. Just someone who can’t actually be involved with the politics itself, but who also doesn’t despise it.’

There was a pause as they considered who that list could include.

‘You’d probably need other considerations too.’ Ron added. ‘They’d need to like – or at least not hate – Muggles, for a start. People might push for someone who’s familiar with Muggle culture, which I don’t think would be a _bad_ thing but then it starts getting tricky because there aren’t _that_ many magic-raised people who get involved in muggle stuff. Shame really.’

‘Ok, not hating Muggles was already on our checklist.’ Kingsley nodded, encouraging Ron to keep talking.

‘Someone like Dean perhaps?’ Hermione suggested. ‘Although thinking about it he definitely can vote, and maybe the idea is that it should be someone who isn’t in any non-magical system. Which rules out anyone who went to primary school or saw a muggle doctor, all of those things.’

‘Well that’s the thing isn’t it, they don’t need to be up to date in muggle life in most ways. Maybe aware of the politics and having a strategical mind, but it’s not like they’ll be socialising during the job – and if they are, they can likely read up just on the relevant areas of interest of that Prime Minister.’

George snorted. ‘Revise just the questions that will be on the exam. You never change.’ He smiled at Ron to make it clear it was a good-natured jab at him rather than a serious mock.

To his credit, Ron rolled with it.

‘It’s always been solid advice despite what _someone_ argued.’

‘Education should be about comprehensive learning!’ Hermione argued, her voice slightly indignant.

‘Yes dear.’ Said Ron in a way that gave George eerie flashes to the way his parents talk to each other. Ron seemed oblivious, however, and continued.

‘So, you need someone magic-raised, able to socialise casually, not hostile to muggles…’ He paused think. ‘I think you’d also need someone with a good strategical mind, maybe a bit outgoing and tries to be inclusive, who can adapt but still keep their own mine and stand up for people. Oh, and they should probably be able to handle themselves in emergency situations – perhaps go through some Auror training before they start the job.’

George stared at Ron. He noted the others were as well.

‘What?’ Ron asked, his ears tinging a little pink.

‘You just described yourself.’ George said, he could hear the amusement in his voice.

‘No, I didn’t.’ Ron said with a slight frown.

‘You absolutely did.’

Hermione took his free hand and looked at him gently.

‘You really did Ron.’ She promised. ‘George isn’t, well, being George about this.’

 _Thanks Hermione_.

‘No.’ Ron insisted. ‘That’s not me. I listed loads of qualities I don’t have – since when have I been able to socialise casually or been outgoing? Or _strategical_?’

George rolled his eyes and looked at Hermione. ‘It’s a good thing he didn’t list ‘clever’, isn’t it?’

Hermione frowned at him before turning to back Ron to give more evidence that he did actually have employable skills. ‘You socialise all the time at the Auror conference things, you even got that ridiculous invite from the MACUSA Enforcer who was so taken with your war stories he wanted to link you up with his agent to write a tell all book, remember?’

‘I suppose, but I think he was just excited because I was famous.’

‘You’re great in the shop too.’ George added. ‘You’re really good with customers, it’s one of the reasons I was trying to convince you to come on full time.’

Ron still looked sceptical.

‘Also on your very first day at school the first thing you did was approach a kid you didn’t know and ask to make friends with them. That’s pretty ballsy for an 11 year old who has mostly only socialised with his own siblings.’ George said with a shrug.

‘Not to mention,’ Kingsley chimed in. George had almost forgotten that they were talking to the literal Minister for Magic. ‘That you’re excellent at chess, and your Auror reports show a clear strategic mind that works within what’s practical and practicable. You said you were quitting the Aurors, didn’t you?’

‘Er. Yeah.’ Ron said. Demonstrating his exceptional communication skills, the plonker.

‘Great. I’ll send an owl with the application forms for the Muggle Prime Minister Liaison Officer – we should come up with a better acronym for that I think – but it looks like visiting hours are coming to an end now, and I don’t want to get in trouble with the Healers again.’

Kingsley said his goodbyes, nipped in to bid farewell to Harry and Ginny, who he’d promised to spend more time with in a few days, and went on his way.

Ron seemed a little shell shocked, Hermione gave him a peck on the cheek and said she was going to nip to the café to get some hot chocolates and a snack. And then it was just Ron and George.

‘Do you really think I have all the qualities I described?’ He asked, his voice betraying his scepticism, as though he thought George was just pulling one of his tricks.

‘And then some.’ George said without hesitation. ‘You really need to get over your inferiority complex, you’re an alright bloke, all things considered.’

Ron gave a small snort. ‘Thanks, I’ll make sure to put that on the application.’

‘Just don’t say it was me who said it.’ George said with mock seriousness. ‘We can’t have people assuming we get on, otherwise the gossip articles won’t have any more juicy Weasley-family-drama stories to fill their pages with.’

‘True.’ Ron agreed. ‘Wouldn’t want to ruin the economy.’

‘I should head off now too really,’ George said finally, after they’d stopped suggesting dramatic headlines of their family’s escapades and chuckling. ‘Should I drop into Harry and Ginny or…’

Ron grimaced. ‘I wouldn’t. They’re a bit gross. You know the Healers have started leaving contraceptive potion in his side cabinet? Pretty sure Ginny already has it covered that we won’t be Uncles from her for a good few years, but even so.’

‘Gross. Angelina will love the gossip though.’ Hermione returned just as he was finishing his sentence.

‘What gossip?’ She asked curiously.

‘Harry and Ginny.’ Ron groaned, reaching his good arm out for his hot chocolate.

‘Oh yes. I’d rather not dwell. Say hi to Angelina from us.’

George left, wondering when exactly he’d become good friends with Ron (and Hermione) and how he was going to properly keep it up once his brother was out of hospital and back to working. If it came to it, he could always prank the Muggle Prime Minister.


End file.
